


Shadows Reign

by Aedemiel



Series: The Shadows We Cast [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-09-24 05:28:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 75,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9705347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aedemiel/pseuds/Aedemiel
Summary: Having fought his way through Sam's demon blood addiction and unable to prevent him slaying Lilith, Dean returned to 2016 hoping he'd managed to make enough changes to avoid the death of Cas. But when he returned, although Cas was alive, Sam was hosting Lucifer, Chuck was dying and Amara was destroying the sun. Frustrated after falling out with Cas, Dean accepted Tenebrae's offer to go back again. Can he derail the Apocalypse train this time?





	1. Chapter 1

Dean lifted his head and looked around the airplane in bewilderment.

"What the hell?" he said. His head was spinning and spots danced in front of his eyes.

"I don't know," Sam slurred. "Dean, I…" He scrabbled for the air sickness bag in the seat back pocket and vomited noisily. The woman next to him glared at him.

"Folks, quick word from the flight deck," the pilot said. "We're just passing over Ilchester, then Ellicott City, on our initial descent into Baltimore-"

"Ilchester?" Dean said. "The convent…" Pain speared into his brain.

"...so if you'd like to stretch your legs, now would be a good time to- Holy crap!"

The plane suddenly lurched suddenly to the right and dropped alarmingly. Passengers started yelling and several items were flying around the cabin. The oxygen masks dropped from the ceiling and Dean grabbed his and shoved it on. Sam was throwing up again. Dean forced his brother into the mask. Sam did not look good. He was pale and sweating, his eyes were unfocused. A bright light was shining through the windows and there was a high-pitched screaming sound, that got louder and louder until it was unbearable. Dean clamped his hands over his ears. And then it was over, just as suddenly as it had begun. The plane returned to level flight and the light was gone.

"This is your captain speaking, we apologize for the sudden turbulence. Unfortunately, we do seem to have a technical problem and we're working on it right now. The crew will be coming through the cabin to see if anyone is hurt and preparing the cabin for landing. Please co-operate with their instructions. Thank you."

Dean eyed Sam, who still looked out of it. He squeezed his brother's arm and Sam gave him a weak smile.

"Nearly there," Dean said, weirded out by the role reversal. "We'll be on the ground soon."

Three people had been seriously injured and there were ambulances waiting when they finally landed. Sam leaned heavily on Dean as they made their way through the terminal in a daze.

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital," Dean asked Sam.

"No," Sam said. "No hospital can fix this."

Finally, they made it out in front of the terminal. "You gonna rent a car or steal one?" Sam mumbled.

Dean cast a look at him. "Rent. Less chance of getting pulled over."

He looked around for the car rental desks and then pointed to some seats. "Stay here, I'll get us a car." Sam slumped down on the metal bench. Dean walked away from him and pulled out his phone.

"Bobby?"

"Dean!" Bobby said. "Thank God!" The relief in the old man's voice made Dean feel vaguely guilty.

"Bobby, what happened?" he asked tiredly.

"How am I supposed to know? I'm in freaking South Dakota!" Bobby's voice was high with stress and worry and Dean's conscience gave a twinge.

"OK," Dean said as soothingly as he could. "OK. It was worth a shot."

"Last thing I know, we were at that convent in Maryland. Next thing I know, I'm in my kitchen." Bobby informed him.

"Ah," Dean replied. "Actually, that helps."

"It does?" Bobby said, sounding baffled. "How?"

"It means I know which timeline we're in." He didn't know yet if that was a good thing or not. This whole jumping around in time was giving him a headache.

"Timeline? Oh, your time travel thing again?"

"Yeah," Dean said, exhausted. "I'll tell you everything when we get there. I gotta go rent a car."

* * *

"I hate this car," Dean groused. "Everything's made of plastic and douchebaggery." He smacked the dashboard as though to underline his point.

"Yeah, whatever," Sam said in a low voice. "Just drive, will you?" He didn't look much better than he had at the airport.

"How are you feeling?" Dean asked. Sam shivered and wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Awful," he said hoarsely. "Like I've been poisoned."

Dean kept his mouth shut. No point reopening _that_ wound right now. "I'll drive us another few hours and then we'll stop and get some sleep, OK?"

"OK," Sam agreed. His eyes fluttered closed and then opened again. "Dean, look-"

"Don't say anything," Dean said, making a quelling gesture with his right hand. "It's OK. We just got to keep our heads down and hash this out, all right?"

Sam blinked slowly at him. "Yeah, OK."

"We need to find Cas." Dean said.

* * *

Bobby looked down at Sam, asleep on the couch. The young hunter's face was drawn and there were dark circles under his eyes.

"He's in bad shape, Dean," Bobby observed, shaking his head.

"I know," Dean said. "I thought if he just got some rest, and some food, he'd pick up. Instead I feel like he's fading away."

"It's not just the demon blood," Bobby said. "It's like he's given up." He wandered over to his desk and fished out a whiskey bottle. He poured some sloppily into a glass and then offered it to Dean who refused with a shake of his head. Bobby shrugged and downed the liquor himself in one gulp.

"I don't know what else to do," Dean said. "Look, I'm going to go talk to Chuck. See if I can get hold of Cas. Maybe one of them will know how to fix this."

"Haven't you been through this before?" Bobby said, almost accusingly.

"It wasn't like this last time," Dean said worriedly. "I don't know what's changed." He grabbed his coat and headed for the door.

Sam's eyes fluttered open. "Bobby?" he croaked.

"I'm here, ya idjit," Bobby said. "Do you need something?"

"Water," Sam said. Bobby handed him a plastic bottle from the table and held his head as he tipped it towards his mouth. He recapped it when it was clear Sam was done, and placed it back on the table within arm's reach.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, sorrow and guilt making his voice rougher than he'd like.

"I want to die," Sam whispered as his whole body shuddered. Dean had said Sam had described the feeling as like poisoning. Bobby frowned to himself as he considered how much better it might have been if they had only been able to convince Sam of this sooner.

"Ah now, you might feel a little rough but it's like a hangover. It'll pass." He didn't believe that of course, the kid was going through a withdrawal that would make kicking heroin look like a cake walk.

"No, you don't understand," Sam said desolately. "Dean warned me and I didn't listen. You warned me and I didn't listen. There was a ton of evidence staring me in the face that told me you were right, but I was being pigheaded and stubborn. And now I've let Lucifer out of the Cage and destroyed the world. And the worst of it is, Dean told me this would happen but I was so convinced he was wrong, I ignored him. Even accused him of lying about it." Tears rolled openly down his face and he hiccupped wretchedly.

"You fucked up," Bobby said baldly. "No question about it. Now you own that, and then you fix it."

"How, Bobby?" Sam wept. "How do I fix this? Some things don't get forgiven."

"Nonsense," Bobby said, any residual anger he'd harbored evaporating in an instant. "We'll figure it out."

Sam rolled over, his face to the back of the couch. "You should just let me die," he said. Bobby kicked the sofa with a growl.

"No, dammit. You done broke it, you don't get to throw in the towel! You hear me boy? We put our heads together and we'll fix it! I don't want to hear no more of this dying talk, you hear me?" He got up and stomped into the kitchen. Once he was out of earshot he leaned over the kitchen counter and let his own tears fall. God damn, the kid was broken. And he wasn't sure any of this could be repaired. Fuck you, John Winchester, he thought. All of this is your fault.

* * *

Dean hammered relentlessly on Chuck's door until the scruffy deity opened it with a scowl, his robe flapping open in the breeze. "Hey, Dean." Dean shouldered him aside and entered the house.

"Uh, why don't you come in?" Chuck said sarcastically and closed the door.

"All right, I need you to get me up to speed," Dean said. "Last time, we ended up on Soul Plane, Sam was all cleaned up. This time, he's sick. And he's getting sicker." He pinned Chuck with a glare that would have melted steel.

"Last time, I zapped your asses out of there," Chuck said easily. "I threw in the detox as a freebie."

"And this time?"

Chuck shrugged. "I delegated. Or rather, someone asked if I would let them save you instead."

"Who?" Dean demanded, staring at him in confusion.

"Gabriel," Chuck said. "But Gabriel isn't me, so he didn't have enough juice to zap you out of there, make sure that passing plane didn't crash _and_ detox Sam, so he had to choose."

"So where is he now?" Dean exploded. "Why isn't he here to finish the job?"

"Not sure," Chuck admitted. "He said he had something he needed to do."

Dean rolled his eyes so hard he was almost surprised they didn't pop right out of his head. "Awesome. So where's Cas?"

"Oh. Yeah. Raphael exploded him." Chuck said, a strange look on his face. "I put him back together again and he said he had something he had to do too."

Dean punched an unoffending wall, leaving a considerable dent. "Can nobody sit still for a freaking moment?" he complained.

"Oh, crap," Chuck said. "Zachariah's on his way."

"You're God," Dean said, spinning around to face him. "Why is this a problem?"

"Undercover, remember?" Chuck said with a disarming grin. "You're gonna have to deal with them yourself."

"If they turn me into chunky soup, I'm gonna haunt your ass, God or no God." Dean growled.

"Thought we'd find you here," Zachariah said. "Playtime's over, Dean. Time to come with us."

"You just keep your distance, asshat," Dean warned, pointing at him and glaring at his hench-angels.

"You're upset," Zachariah said in what Dean imagined was supposed to be a soothing tone.

"Yeah. A little. You sons of bitches jump-started judgment day!"

"Maybe we let it happen," Zachariah said, spreading his hands placatingly. "We didn't _start_ anything." Chuck shifted almost imperceptibly next to Dean and muttered something under his breath.

"That would be Sammy, am I right?" Zachariah continued and winked. "You had a chance to stop your brother, and you couldn't. So let's not quibble over who started what. Let's just say it was all our faults and move on. 'Cause like it or not, it's Apocalypse Now. And we're back on the same team again."

"Is that so?" Dean said icily, drawing himself up to his full height. He was going to derail this train, this time. He _was_. Somehow.

"You want to kill the devil," Zachariah said. "We want you to kill the devil. It's...synergy."

"And I'm just supposed to trust you?" Dean said in disbelief. "Cram it with walnuts, ugly." He could feel Chuck shaking with suppressed laughter next to him.

Zachariah certainly wasn't laughing. "This isn't a game, son. Lucifer is powerful in ways that defy description. We need to strike now, hard and fast—before he finds his vessel. And when he touches down, we're talking Four Horsemen, red oceans, fiery skies, the greatest hits."

"Cat's and dog's living together, mass hysteria!" Dean snarked.

"You can stop him, Dean, but you need our help." Zachariah insisted.

"You listen to me, you two-faced douche," Dean snarled. "After what you did to my brother, I don't want jack squat from you!"

"You listen to me, boy! You think you can rebel against us? As Lucifer did?" Zachariah looked down at the blood dripping from Dean's hand. "You're bleeding."

"Oh, yeah," Dean said as if he'd almost forgotten. "A little insurance policy in case you dicks showed up." He slapped his bloody hand on the sigil he'd painted behind the door.

"No!" Zachariah cried out, but it was too late. The angels vanished in a flash of white light.

"Learned that from my friend Cas, you son of a bitch." Dean said triumphantly.

"This sucks ass," Chuck said. Dean looked at him and he gave a defensive gesture. "I had no idea how bad things had gotten in Heaven since I left."

"So go up there and fix it," Dean snapped.

Chuck sighed. "It's not that easy, Dean. Free will, remember."

"Angels suck at free will," Dean growled.

"Not all of them do," Chuck said with a sly smile. "Castiel seems to be getting the hang of it."

"Not that much," Dean said with a surly look. He blinked as he realized what he'd just said, and who he'd said it to. "Uh… I uh… Shit."

"It's OK, Dean. I know about you and Castiel." Chuck said. "Honestly, I think it's sweet."

"Sweet?" Dean snarled. "What's sweet about it? He won't…" He broke off, flustered. His cheeks were heating and the calm steady gaze of the Lord was not helping.

"Everything will work out," Chuck said, patting him on the shoulder. "If you get the problems with the broken time stream sorted and there's still a problem, I'll have a word. I promise."

"OK," Dean said, swallowing hard at the implications of that promise. "I guess that's OK. What about Sam?"

"What about Sam?" Chuck said, his voice hardening. All signs of the benevolent deity were gone, replaced with a cool contempt. Dean kept his face blank but inside he was alarmed. Did Chuck have something against Sam? He'd never noticed it before.

"I… He's in bad shape."

"Gabriel took on that job," Chuck said callously. "It's up to him now."

* * *

Dean shuffled into the living room and Bobby frowned at him. "How'd it go with Chuck?"

"Not much help," Dean said dismissively, wishing he could tell him the truth. "Cas is AWOL. How's Sam?"

"Physically, he seems a little better. But his spirit's broken, Dean." Bobby said heavily. "I'm worried he might do something stupid."

"More stupid than free Lucifer from Hell?" Dean snarked.

"Stupid, like hurt himself stupid." Bobby said sternly, giving Dean a hard look. "He told me he wants to die."

"Suicide?" Dean said in disbelief. "Sam's not the type."

Bobby shook his head at him. "I don't think you understand," he said. "If you talk to him, you'll see. He's upstairs."

Dean nodded and headed for the stairs, finding Sam curled up on a bed in the bedroom to the right.

"Hey, Sammy," he said. "How are you feeling?"

"I can hear you talking about me," Sam said acidly. "Why don't you just leave me alone?"

"Because I need you," Dean told him. "I just had a run in with Zachariah. I can't fight the forces of Heaven and Hell on my own."

"Where's Cas?" Sam asked.

"I don't know," Dean admitted. "He'll show up. But I need _you_."

"I'm no use to you, Dean." Sam said sadly. "I'm done."

"No, dammit," Dean said. "You do not get to give up on me."

"I'm not giving up. I'm broken, beyond repair," Sam replied. "Every day is more unbearable than the last."

"Sam-"

"Go away, Dean," Sam said. He began to shiver. Dean gave him a helpless look and then returned downstairs.

* * *

"So what do we do now?" Bobby asked him, pouring more whiskey into his glass.

"I don't know," Dean said, swirling his drink around and gazing into it. "The last time, Chuck sent us a message about Michael's sword, which turned out to be a euphemism for me being a vessel."

"Euphemism? Now there's a five dollar word." Bobby cracked.

"Shut up."

"Gotta find humor in something," Bobby said. "So, you're a vessel."

"Michael's vessel, yeah. And Sam's Lucifer's."

"I am not," Sam said from the doorway. "I don't belong to Lucifer. He can fuck off."

"Sam!" Dean said, delighted to see his brother on his feet.

"Sit down before you fall down," Bobby growled, getting to his feet. "I'll make you something to eat."

"No, it's OK," Sam said. But Bobby ignored him, striding into the kitchen and puttering around.

"I'm sorry, Sam," Dean said following Bobby and dropping into a chair. "I wasn't trying to upset you."

"I know," Sam said. He opened the fridge and surveyed the contents with a frown.

"You're a hard man to find," Zachariah said, walking into the kitchen flanked by two other angels. "Sam. Good to see you." He pointed his fingers like a gun and said "Bang." Sam collapsed to the floor with a cry.

"No!" Dean yelled. "You son of a bitch!"

"Keep mouthing off, I'll break more than his legs. I am completely and utterly through screwing around. The war has begun. We don't have our general," Zachariah told him. "That's bad. Now, Michael is going to take his vessel and lead the final charge against the adversary. You understand me?"

"How many humans die in the crossfire, huh? A million? Five, ten?" Dean challenged, standing up and glaring at him.

"Probably more. If Lucifer goes unchecked, you know how many die? All of them. He'll roast the planet alive."

"Trouble is, you need my consent. Michael needs my say-so to ride around in my skin." Dean folded his arms across his chest.

"Unfortunately, yes," Zachariah admitted with a grimace.

"No way." Dean said firmly.

"There is no alternative. There must be a battle. Michael must defeat the serpent. _It is written_." Zachariah looked distressed, Dean thought. The bigwigs must have been giving him a hard time. He suppressed a smile at that thought.

"Yeah, maybe," he said idly. "But, on the other hand... Eat me. The answer's no."

"Bobby, how're you doing?" Zachariah said genially, turning to look at the old hunter. "You're an older man, who knows what kind of infirmities you're carrying? Maybe there's a blood clot on it's way to your brain right now." He made a gesture with one finger. "A stroke could put you in a wheelchair." His unrelenting gaze returned to Dean. "Say yes, Dean and that blood clot will dissolve away. Say no, he'll never walk again."

Bobby glared at Dean but it wasn't necessary. "No."

"Then how about we heal you from...stage-four stomach cancer?" Zachariah said viciously.

Dean doubled over suddenly, pain spearing through his midsection and he began coughing up blood. He dropped to his knees unwillingly.

"No," he croaked.

"Then let's get really creative." Zachariah tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Uh, let's see how...Sam does without his lungs." Sam started making wheezing sounds and Dean turned to look at him.

"Are we having fun yet?" Zachariah said with a nasty grin. "You're going to say yes, Dean. I'll find your pressure point."

"You'd have to kill us first." Dean managed despite the pain and the fear.

"Kill you?" Zachariah said. "Oh, no. I'm just getting started." There was a flash of light and Zachariah turned his head irritably to see one of his lackey's collapsing, a bloody hole in his throat.

"Cas!" Dean said with relief. Cas wrestled with the other angel, slamming him into the wall. His opponent swung his leg out and Cas stumbled forward. As the angel raised his blade in triumph, Cas suddenly twisted and they lost their footing. Cas slammed his blade into his back and the angel died in a flare of light. Cas strode over to Zachariah.

"How are you…" Zachariah faltered.

"Alive? That's a good question." Cas rumbled, a cracked smile on his face. It made him look slightly unhinged. He waved the bloody blade in his hands towards the Winchesters. "How did these two end up on that airplane? Another good question. I think we both know the answer, don't we?"

"No," Zachariah said, shaking his head. "That's not possible."

"It scares you. Well, it should," Cas looked at Dean who was still coughing up blood and Sam who had passed out on the floor. "Now, put these boys back together and go. I won't ask twice." Zachariah vanished, and Sam stirred and groaned. Dean leaned his head on the table leg and Bobby just stared.

"You need to be more careful," Cas said sternly.

"I know," Dean said. "But the hex bags are only so good."

Cas stepped forward and Dean dragged himself upright, smiling at the angel. He was so goddamn happy to see him. Cas placed a hand on his chest and he gasped in pain. Then the angel turned and helped Sam to his feet. He placed his hand on Sam's chest and Sam yelped in pain.

"Ouch," Dean said. "I forgot how much that hurt."

"What was that?" Sam asked, rubbing at his chest.

"An Enochian sigil. It'll hide you from every angel in creation, including Lucifer." Cas told him. "I carved it into your ribs."

"Well," Bobby said. "What happens now?" Cas disappeared without warning.

"Dammit, Cas," Dean swore.

* * *

"Here," Bobby said, shoving the dirty plates at Dean. "You get to wash up, princess."

"Why me?" Dean complained. "Why not Sam?"

"Because Sam's still sick, dammit!" Bobby snapped. "Why do you always have to-" He broke off with a cry.

"Bobby?" Dean yelped as Bobby collapsed to the ground. "Sam! Call 911!"

Bobby was still and unmoving on the floor and none of their attempts to rouse him elicited any response. The ambulance showed up ten minutes later, but to Sam and Dean it felt like a lifetime.

"Are you his kids?" the EMT asked briskly as Dean opened the door and led them through to the kitchen. His shirt bore the name Erikkson.

"Yeah," Dean lied. "We're gonna follow you to the hospital in my car."

"OK," Erikkson nodded. "Sounds good. We're gonna take good care of your dad, I promise."

It took no more than a few minutes for Erikkson and his partner, a sullen woman by the name of Foster, to load Bobby into the ambulance. Sam and Dean jumped into the Impala and followed as they headed for the nearest hospital. Dean could feel Sam fretting in the seat next to him.

"He's gonna be OK, Sam," he promised. But he wasn't sure, was he? Bobby had ended up in the hospital last time after stabbing himself with Ruby's knife to rid himself of a demon that had possessed him. Having a stroke or whatever the hell had happened was totally different. But he had to believe.

"You can't know that," Sam said dismally. He leaned his head against the window, lost in thought.

"I can and I do," Dean asserted.

* * *

"Unlikely to walk again? Why, you snot-nosed son of a bitch! Wait till I get out of this bed!" Sam exchanged a look with Dean and they rushed into the room where Bobby was being treated. The door flew open and the Doctor fled down the hallway. "I'll use my game leg and kick your friggin' ass! Yeah, you better run!" Bobby looked at the Winchesters with a grimace. "You believe that yahoo?"

"Screw him. You'll be fine." Dean said.

"So, let me ask the million-dollar question. What do we do now?" Sam asked. Dean cast a glance at him. This was the most engaged Sam had been since Lucifer had been set free.

"Well... We save as many as we can for as long as we can, I guess. It's bad. Whoever wins, heaven or hell, we're boned." Bobby said.

"What if we win?" Dean suggested. Bobby stared at him and Sam was incredulous. "I'm serious. I mean, screw the angels and the demons and their crap apocalypse. Hell, they want to fight a war, they can find their own planet. This one's ours, and I say they get the hell off it. We take 'em all on. But we do it our own damn selves."

"And how are we supposed to do all this, genius?" Bobby said, a smile tugging at his lips.

"I got no idea," Dean declared. "But what I do have is a GED and a give-'em-hell attitude, and I'll figure it out."

"You are nine kinds of crazy, boy," Bobby said, shaking his head admiringly.

"It's been said," Dean agreed. He patted Bobby on the shoulder. "Listen, you stay on the mend. We'll see you in a bit."

As they walked across the parking lot, Dean could hear Sam thinking.

"You know, I was thinking, Dean—maybe we could go after the Colt," he said finally.

"No point," Dean said. "It won't work."

"Why not?" Sam objected.

"Apparently the Colt doesn't quite kill everything. I think Lucifer said there were five things it couldn't kill. And he was one of them."

"When did _you_ have a little chit-chat with Lucifer?" Sam said, stunned.

"Time travel, remember?" Dean said.

Sam's face twisted. "You're not still seriously riding that horse," he said in disbelief.

"Yep," Dean said. "I thought after everything that happened you'd believe me, Sam."

"Well, OK. Let's say I do believe you. What happened?" Sam said.

"It's a long story. And lot's of it ain't fun. I'm not up to telling the tale tonight." Dean said wearily. "Let's leave it to another day."

"OK," Sam said doubtfully. His footsteps slowed as they approached the car. "Is there something else you want to say to me?"

"Yeah," Dean said. "Lots. But not in a hospital parking lot. I'm not letting you out of my sight."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had a ton of feedback and I'm really grateful you guys! I hope you enjoy this next emotional roller coaster!

Sam laid back on the lumpy motel bed and stared up at the ceiling. The sudden arrival of the angels and then Bobby's stroke had forced him out of his navel-gazing but now the immediate panic was over, his thoughts turned inward again. Dean snored quietly on the other bed. Despite his claim of having a lot he wanted to say, he'd eaten the pizza they'd brought back to the room in complete silence, and then drunk steadily for an hour before rolling over and falling asleep.

Sam hadn't said anything to Dean or Bobby about his addiction. But it had been a week since Ilchester and the need was beginning to claw at his insides. He didn't want to do it. He never wanted to touch the stuff again. And yet, the more he tried not to think about it, the worse the feeling got. Finally, too restless to sleep, he got up and headed downstairs to the soda machine. The night air was cool and it soothed his feverish skin. He was so wrapped up in himself he didn't notice the other guest until he'd literally bumped into him.

"Oh," Sam said in surprise. "I'm sorry." The redhead smiled at him.

"I'm Luke," he said, holding out his hand. Sam took it automatically and shook it, gasping at the zing of electricity that passed through his fingers.

"Sam," he said.

"Nice to meet you, Sam," Luke said. "Are you in town long?" He gave a slow, lazy smile that tugged at Sam's gut.

"Just passing through."

"And how are you feeling?" Luke asked.

"I'm fine," Sam said warily.

Luke's smile got wider. "Really? No withdrawal symptoms? No… cravings?"

"Who are you?" Sam asked angrily. "Why the Hell are you asking me this stuff?" Sam narrowed his eyes at him. "You're not human."

"Neither are you," Luke said mildly and Sam winced. "Not here to start a fight. Just wanted to know how you're holding up." Sam turned to walk away. "I'm on your side," Luke said. "I can help."

"How?" Sam snarled.

"I know where there are some demons hanging out. We go and ambush them, and you can sate yourself silly."

"No!" Sam exclaimed. "I never want to drink demon blood again."

"That's not true," Luke said, wagging a finger at him. "Right now, you can't think about anything else."

"I'm trying to quit!" Sam said desperately.

"I get that," Luke said. "But doesn't it make more sense to cut back and then quit, rather than go cold turkey?"

"Are you him?" Sam said fearfully.

Luke gave him a puzzled look. "Am I who?"

"Lucifer," Sam breathed.

"What!" Luke laughed. "No. Definitely not."

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" Sam said defiantly.

Luke looked thoughtful. "I don't know," he admitted. "We could go find those demons. If they bow down and worship me, you'll know I was lying." He grinned at Sam, who stared at him. "If that doesn't appeal, why don't I help you another way?"

"What other way?" Sam said suspiciously.

"You don't want to feed on any more demons, OK. But you do need something to take the edge off. You've got a couple of options. Sex will help, believe it or not. And some other, non-demon blood will ease the pain you're in."

"I'm not a vampire," Sam ground out.

"Of course not," Luke said soothingly. "Human blood is no good anyway. You need blood with power in it. Non-human. Any monster would do of course, except vampires or werewolves. That wouldn't be smart."

"Are you offering _your_ blood?" Sam said dubiously.

"Of course," Luke said with a sultry smile. "And sex too."

"I don't even know what you are," Sam said.

"Does it matter?" Luke asked him.

Despite the need that was scraping at his nerves, this Luke was giving Sam seriously bad vibes. "Yes. If you won't tell me, then I think I'll pass."

"Suit yourself," Luke said, giving a one-shouldered shrug. "I wonder if you'll be so picky a week from now."

Repelled and attracted all at once, Sam forced himself to turn and walk away.

* * *

When he got back to the room, Sam collapsed onto the bed gasping for air. Dean shot up out of bed at the sound of his distress.

"Sammy?" he said, his voice blurry with sleep. "Are you OK? What's going on?"

"I think I might have just met Lucifer," Sam said unsteadily.

"What?" Dean barked. "Where?"

"I couldn't sleep, so I went out for a soda. He was there, at the vending machine." Sam was breathing too fast, he knew, but he couldn't get the panic to settle down.

"What did he do?"

"Nothing really," Sam admitted. It was going to sound stupid and he almost didn't want to say it. "He offered sex."

Dean relaxed and began laughing at him. "Only you would run into a rent boy and think he was the Devil."

"He wasn't a rent boy," Sam said urgently. "He wasn't even _human_. I'm sure of it. He knew things about me. About the demon blood. Offered to take me to where some demons were hanging out so I could…" He broke off, shaking his head.

Dean nodded and held up his hands in surrender. He didn't think it was Lucifer but it was better to be safe than sorry. "OK. Do you want to move on to somewhere else to stay tonight?"

Sam thought about it. "I think it might not be a bad idea. Just in case."

* * *

Where the Hell was Sam? Gabriel had tried everything but it was like the Winchesters had just dropped off the grid. They couldn't be dead, he'd know. This was making him crazy. He needed to find Sam and get him cleaned up, the kid would be jonesing hard. He'd intended to catch up with the boys at Bobby's house, but then they'd just vanished. This was Castiel's doing, he had no doubt. He considered revealing his identity to his brother and asking him where the Winchesters were, but he wasn't sure how Castiel would react to seeing him after all this time. He shook his head admiringly, who knew that staid, sensible law-abiding Castiel would rebel? He wondered what had caused his brother to abandon millennia of strict adherence to the rules.

His gut twisted suddenly and he gasped. The time manipulations he'd started detecting a little over a year ago had been subtle and he hadn't been too concerned. This was a big one and he frowned as he tried to figure out what had been changed. It wasn't going to be easy. He cursed to himself, he really didn't want to put off his search for Sam Winchester, but this couldn't wait.

* * *

Of course, finding another motel at 2am would have attracted attention, exactly what they didn't want. So Dean had pulled the Impala into a state park and they settled down to sleep in the car. Sam had managed to get a few hours of fitful sleep but now the sun was coming up, it was impossible. He sighed and Dean shifted and snorted in his sleep. Sam watched him for a moment. Stress lined his brother's face, and even sleep seemed to provide no respite. What a pair they were.

After another half an hour of restlessness, Sam carefully opened the door and slid out of the car. He pulled himself up onto the hood of the Impala and listened to the sounds of the dawn. A twig snapped, somewhere off in the woods and he frowned, listening. It was probably just an animal, but all things considered he didn't want to take the chance. Then a flicker of movement caught his eye and before he could do more than just slide off the hood, a woman stepped out of the forest. She was middle-aged, with silver-gray hair that swept back off her forehead and as she got closer, Sam noticed her extraordinary violet eyes, fringed with thick, black lashes. She gave him a sultry smile.

"Good morning, Sam," she said in a husky voice. Sam stared at her, she was so… compelling.

"Uh, hi," he stammered.

She held out a hand. "It's nice to meet you, finally," she said. Sam grasped her hand and shook it, gasping at the feeling of her skin against his. It crackled with electricity.

"Who are you?" he managed.

She pursed her lips and Sam found himself riveted by her mouth. "Why don't you call me Zila?" she suggested.

"OK,' Sam said slowly. "You obviously know me, but your name means nothing to me."

She laughed, a rich sound that made Sam's throat dry. "I've heard a lot about you," she told him. "You've made some interesting and powerful enemies."

"Great," Sam said sarcastically. "Which interesting and powerful enemy in particular are we talking about?"

"Lugh," Zila replied. Sam stared at her in confusion. He had no idea who that was. "Oh, you might not have met him yet."

"Why is he my enemy if we've not met?"

"Because when you did meet, you arranged to have him enslaved," Zila said, amused. "He's very bitter about it."

"Wait, you're telling me that at some point in the future I'm going to meet this Lugh and sell him into slavery? That doesn't sound like me."

She shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't know why you did it. I don't really care either. The point is, he's your enemy and my friend."

"So you're saying you're my enemy too? Awesome." Sam snapped. "What do you want?"

"I'm not your enemy, Sam," Zila said. "I need you. I can handle Lugh." She flicked a look inside the Impala and Sam folded his arms.

"I'll ask you again, what do you want?"

She looked back at him, almost pleading. "I was imprisoned, by angels. They lied and they betrayed me and incarcerated me in a terrible place."

"Sounds like them," Sam commented. Another person wronged by angels? That list was getting longer by the day. Except… she wasn't a person, was she? He wondered vaguely what she was.

"It took me a long time to get free," she continued. "And now I plan to get my revenge."

"I keep asking you what you want, and you keep not answering," Sam pointed out.

"Nothing, for now. But if you're willing, I'd like your help when I find the angel who led the crusade against me. Will you help me?"

"I don't know," Sam said. "I don't know anything about you, and as pissed off at the angels as I am right now, for all I know they had a good reason to do what they did to you."

"Very well," Zila said. "I was trying to prevent the Apocalypse from ever coming to pass."

"You were?" Sam said, surprised. "How?"

"It's complicated," she said evasively. "But ultimately, it would have meant that nothing that's happened in the last several years would have happened; the deaths of your parents and Jessica, the opening of the gate to Hell, the return of Lucifer. None of it."

"Wow," Sam said. "Does that mean I'd have stayed at Stanford? Married Jess?"

"I don't know," Zila said. "I can calculate the big things, but it's not possible to figure out every single event if I'd been able to complete my plan."

"Look," Sam said finally. "If you were truly trying to prevent the Apocalypse, then I guess we are on the same side."

"Good," she said, twinkling at him. "I'll be in touch." She sauntered off, back into the trees and Sam let out an explosive breath. What the Hell had he just agreed to?

* * *

Bobby was staring out of the window from his wheelchair, but it was clear he wasn't really seeing the view. Sam knew the feeling. Sometimes, he just wanted to disengage entirely too. Especially right now, when the need for demon blood was cramping his stomach and making him twitchy and easily irritated. His phone rang and he answered with a snarl.

"Hello?"

"Sam?" Cas's voice said.

"Castiel?" Sam replied in astonishment.

"Sam, where are you?" Cas asked.

"Ah, St. Martin's Hospital," Sam replied. "Why? What are you-" The phone went dead. "Cas?"

Cas came walking down the hall and nodded to them both.

"Cell phone, Cas? Really?" Dean said. "Since when do angels need to reach out and touch someone?"

"You're hidden from angels now. All angels." Cas said impatiently. "I won't be able to simply-"

"Enough foreplay," Bobby barked. "Get over here and lay your damn hands on."

Nobody moved and Bobby turned to look at them. "Get healing. Now," he demanded.

"I can't," Cas rumbled.

Bobby turned the wheelchair to face the angel. "Say again?"

Cas walked over to Bobby, his face lined with regret.

"I'm cut off from heaven and much of heaven's power. Certain things I can do. Certain things I can't," he told him.

"You're telling me you lost your mojo just in time to get me stuck in this trap the rest of my life?" Bobby said incredulously.

"I'm sorry," Cas said.

"Shove it up your ass," Bobby growled and turned back to the window.

"At least he's talking now," Dean said to Sam.

"I heard that," Bobby snapped.

Cas gave the old hunter a sorrowful look and then came back to the Winchesters. "I don't have much time. We need to talk."

"OK," Dean said.

"Your plan to kill Lucifer." Cas replied.

"Yeah," Dean said hopefully. "You want to help?"

"No," Cas said firmly and Dean's shoulders slumped. "It's foolish. It can't be done."

"Oh," Dean said, sounding more than simply disappointed. "Thanks for the support."

"But I believe I have the solution," Cas insisted. "There is someone besides Michael strong enough to take on Lucifer. Strong enough to stop the Apocalypse."

"Who's that?" Sam said, his heart in his mouth. Was Cas talking about Zila?

"The one who resurrected me and put you on that airplane. The one who began everything. God."

Sam gaped at Cas in astonishment. Then Dean folded his arms and looked… angry? What was that all about?

When they didn't say anything, Cas said, "I'm gonna find God."

"It's a waste of time," Dean said grumpily. "He's not going to let you find him and he isn't interested in getting involved."

"You don't know that," Cas snarled in his face.

Dean opened his mouth to contradict him and then let out a curse when the hospital room was suddenly replaced by Chuck's living room. Chuck looked up from his computer.

"Nuh uh," he said. "No spoilers. Not about me, anyway."

"Dammit," Dean swore. "You're just gonna let Cas go off on this entirely fruitless quest to find you? Don't you realize what that did to him?"

Chuck scratched at his beard. "Castiel's making his own choices," he said. "Free will, remember."

"Please," Dean begged. "Let me at least tell him something."

"No," Chuck said in a hard voice. "I know this is difficult for you, Dean, but you have to trust me."

"Bullshit," Dean said. "You're making this up as you go along."

"Have it your own way," Chuck said. "But I'm not going to let you let this cat out of the bag. And believe me, pulling you here to talk this out is a courtesy. I could just stop you."

"You do whatever it is you think you have to do," Dean said coldly. Cas blinked at him and stiffened at his tone. He stepped closer to Dean, getting in his face.

"I killed two angels this week. My brothers. I'm hunted. I rebelled. And I did it, all of it, for _you_ , and you failed. You and your brother destroyed the world-" Dean couldn't look away from the intense look on Cas's face. "I lost everything," Cas said angrily, poking him in the chest with one finger. "For nothing. So keep your opinions to yourself."

"Cas, I'm so-" The angel vanished. Dean closed his mouth with a click. He turned back to Sam, who had dropped down into a chair.

"Fuck," Dean said. He tapped Sam on the shoulder. "Come on." Sam didn't respond, his head was down and his shoulders were quivering. "Sam?"

"He's right," Sam said in a hollow voice. "We destroyed the world. And he did lose everything. He must hate us."

Dean's stomach twisted. Did Cas hate him? His head began to hurt. "I'm gonna go get us some coffee," he said. Sam nodded.

* * *

It took a few minutes to find the small coffee stand. When he finally spotted it, he shoved his hands in his pockets to see how much money he had and yelped in surprise when he was suddenly shoved backwards against a wall.

"Hey!" he complained. "What's the-" It was Cas who effortlessly pinned him and pressed himself against Dean's body. He could feel heat radiating off the angel and he couldn't suppress the surge of desire and longing that swept through him. Cas just stared at him, and then he licked his lips. Dean swallowed the moan that threatened to escape as he followed the movement.

"I did come here for something," Cas said finally. "An amulet. Very rare. Very powerful. It burns hot in God's presence. It'll help me find him." His gaze dropped to Dean's chest. "I need to borrow it."

Dean looked at him, disconcerted. All he could think about was the feeling of the angel holding him against the wall and his brain couldn't process what Cas was actually saying.

"Dean," Cas insisted. "Give it to me."

He struggled against the angel's grip. "Do you hate me?" he whispered.

Cas's eyes blazed. "No," he said. "I should, but I don't. I am however, very angry. So think carefully about what you say next."

Dean stared at him in silence. Then he nodded. Cas tugged the amulet from his throat and placed it in his pocket.

"Great," Dean said. "Now I feel naked." Cas's pupils dilated and all the breath huffed out of Dean in response. He opened his mouth to speak and with a wordless cry, Cas swooped down and claimed his mouth. The kiss was desperate and angry, more like a battle than a sign of affection. And it was the hottest thing Dean had ever experienced. He groaned and Cas broke off the kiss, leaning back and looking a little shell-shocked.

"I-" He let Dean go and touched his fingers to his lips as though uncertain as to what he would find. "I'll be in touch." And between one blink and the next, he was gone.

* * *

Dean wandered back into Bobby's room in a daze. Sam was sitting with his head in his hands and Bobby had turned away from the window and was watching him in concern. He looked up at Dean.

"What the Hell happened to you?" the old hunter barked. "You look like a pole-axed cow."

"Cas," Dean said faintly.

"What?" Bobby yelped. "What did he do to you?"

"Kissed me," Dean said in that same, bewildered tone. "He kissed me."

"Give me strength," Bobby growled. "I swear your dad must have dropped you on your head as a baby. What are you talking about?"

"Cas cornered me when I went for coffee. He wanted my amulet. And then he kissed me. And it was… incredible."

Bobby rolled his eyes so hard, he was surprised it didn't make an audible sound. Kissing angels, indeed! "Are you out of your mind?" he asked.

"What?" Dean said. "Why?"

"Look, I know he's your friend and he helped you when you were trying to save Sam. Reluctantly maybe, he certainly waited until the last minute before deciding that the Apocalypse probably wasn't a great idea. But, fine, whatever. Don't mistake that for something it's not."

" _He_ kissed _me_ ," Dean said. He wished suddenly that he'd kept it a secret. He hadn't banked on Bobby's disapproval.

"Yes," Bobby said. "He did. You mooned around after him for over a year, and you think he didn't notice? And now, he's using you to get whatever the Hell it is he wants. None of these angels have shown they can be trusted. He's using you, and you're too dumb to see it."

"No," Dean denied. "You're wrong. I think he was as surprised by it as I was."

"Even worse," Bobby snarled. "He's already rebelled against Heaven. What happens if he Falls completely?"

"Falls?" Dean said incoherently.

"Yes, dammit, Falls. Like Lucifer, remember?"

"No," Dean said, shaking his head. "No, Cas isn't like that. He wouldn't go darkside, even if he did Fall." Except, last time, Cas had gone pretty far off the reservation. But this time it was going to be different. "Look at Anna, she didn't become one of Lucifer's minions just because she Fell."

"She chose to Fall," Bobby told him. "Ripped out her Grace and decided to live with the consequences. Cas is Falling against his will. Just like Lucifer was kicked out of Heaven and forced to Fall by Michael."

"No," Dean repeated. "No, Bobby. You're wrong about this. Cas is one of the good guys."

"Maybe," Bobby said, relenting. "But either way, I'm warning you. Keep it in your pants. Nothing good can come of it."

Dean glared at him and then grabbed Sam's shoulder. "Come on, Sam. I think Bobby's tired of us for today."

Sam trailed after Dean as he stomped through the hospital. He'd barely been paying attention to the argument he'd had with Bobby and it had scarcely made sense. But he didn't care. His misery was too large and black and all-consuming to spend much time dwelling on other things. He let Dean guide him into the car.

"...Sam?" Dean was saying. He raised his head.

"What?" he said listlessly.

"I said, what the Hell do we do now? Are you even listening to me?" Dean was punchy and aggressive. Sam let his head rest against the window. His phone rang and when he made no move to answer it, Dean punched him in the shoulder.

"Hey," he protested weakly. "Cut it out." Dean snatched his phone out of his pocket and answered it.

"Hello?" he said. Sam could just hear Bobby's grouchy tones through the plastic. "Rufus? Where is he? River Pass, Colorado. Got it. We're on our way."


	3. Chapter 3

Crowley turned the Colt over in his hands, frowning to himself.

"I think I got duped," he told Simmons. She stared at him in shock.

"It's another fake?" she asked.

"What?" Crowley said. "Oh. No, no. It's real. But… why was he so willing to let it go? This thing can kill anything. Maybe even Lucifer himself. So why would you exchange that for some knife that turns people into zombies and then worm food?"

Simmons thought about it for a moment. "Because whatever this Lucien wants, he can't get it by killing?"

"Nonsense," Crowley laughed. "You can get anything by killing."

"I don't know," Simmons said. "You don't kill that often. Most of the time, you're much more creative."

"True," Crowley agreed. "OK, let's say you're right. What does he want with an army of drooling, mindless slaves?"

"No idea," Simmons said, thinking. "But that Zila woman must be connected to it somehow."

"Perhaps. Maybe I'll have a little word." Crowley said. "I know just who to ask."

* * *

Dean leaned forward on the picnic table and held up the ring.

"So, pit stop at Mount Doom?" he suggested with a grin. Sam was silent, his face pensive.

After a moment he said, "Dean-"

Dean held up one hand. "Sam, let's not."

"No, listen. This is important. I know you don't trust me." Sam told him. Dean looked down at the table. "Just, now I realized something. I don't trust me either." Dean's head came up in surprise. "From the minute I saw that blood, only thought in my head...and I tell myself it's for the right reasons, my intentions are good, and it, it feels true, you know? But I think, underneath...I just miss the feeling. I know how messed up that sounds, which means I know how messed up I am. Thing is, the problem's not the demon blood, not really. I mean, I, what I did, I can't blame the blood or Ruby or...anything. The problem's me. How far I'll go. There's something in me that...scares the hell out of me, Dean. In the last couple of days, I caught another glimpse…"

"So what are you saying?" Dean said, his heart aching.

"I'm in no shape to be hunting. I need to step back, 'cause I'm dangerous." Sam's face twisted. "Maybe it's best we just...go our separate ways."

"No," Dean said firmly.

"Dean-"

"No. You're right. I spend more time worrying about you than about doing the job right." Dean said. "And we can't afford that. But I can't let you go off on your own."

"Why not?" Sam challenged. "If you don't want me hunting with you, then let me go."

"Because the rumor network knows about you, Sam. Other hunters know the truth. You thought the demons would keep this on the downlow? You're their poster boy!"

"So what am I supposed to do?" Sam choked.

"You go back to Bobby's," Dean said. "You sort your head out, you help Bobby with research and stuff. You get your head back in the game."

"I don't know," Sam replied. "I thought maybe I needed to get away from it entirely."

"If you're in bad shape, and I can see you are, then you need protection. Bobby's house is the safest place we know. Please, Sam. I'm begging you."

Sam took a deep breath. "OK," he agreed. "I'll try it out."

* * *

It had been a long time since anyone had used the ritual for summoning Loki. Gabriel didn't have to respond to it, since he wasn't truly a pagan. But ignoring it would kind of give the game away, so he decided he would check it out and find out who was trying to contact him.

The expensive, wood-panelled study he found himself in when he let the spell draw him in was strange. There was a residual aura here, something he only vaguely recognized. Whatever it was had been here only recently. He frowned and concentrated on the matter at hand, the dark-haired man… no wait, demon… in front of him. He gave him a forbidding look.

"Not many have the audacity to summon me," he said.

"Probably not," the demon said. "My name's Crowley."

"Am I supposed to know who you are?" Gabriel said disdainfully.

"What? Oh, no. You probably don't remember me. I used to be known as Fergus. My mother was the witch, Rowena."

Gabriel blinked, he remembered Rowena. She'd summoned him, centuries ago, to beg a favor. They'd had a little fun and he'd liked her. Smart, savvy and utterly ruthless. She'd had a son, as he recalled. A cute, tow-headed little hellion. His lips curved in a smile.

"Rowena," he said finally. "Yes. I remember you, but you were only a child at the time."

"Right," Crowley agreed. Loki wasn't exactly what he had remembered. He'd watched too many movies, no doubt.

"So what do you want? Crowley or Fergus or whatever you want to call yourself."

"I had this knife," Crowley said. "Really strange artifact, dark and powerful. It turns people into these weird zombies. Anyway, there was an entity trapped inside. And I uh...accidentally let her out."

Gabriel cocked an eyebrow at him. "And what do you expect me to do about any of this?"

"Who is she, the being that was in the Shadow Blade?"

Gabriel's temper exploded. "You're telling me this is about the Shadow Blade! You let _her_ out?" he snapped. "How?"

"I don't really know," Crowley admitted. "But then this Lucien showed up and offered to swap the Colt for the knife. And I said yes because Lucifer's free and the Apocalypse is on and have you any idea what that's doing to my bottom line!"

Gabriel paced back and forth, taking care not to disturb the spell circle and give the game away that he wasn't truly constrained by it.

"Why did you call me here?" he asked tightly.

"I remember you, from when my mother called you. You're not interested in the goings on of Heaven and Hell. You're powerful, you're beholden to no-one and you know everything. I just need to know who I released and what Lucien is going to do with that knife."

"You know that Lucien is Lugh, right?" Gabriel asked him.

"I thought as much," Crowley nodded and looking smug.

"So you thought you'd play the Norse gods against the Celtic? Interesting. What are you offering, in exchange for the information?" Gabriel asked.

Crowley's face became cunning. "A little bird tells me you're looking for the Winchesters. _I_ know where they are. Or at least, I know how to find them."

"Tell me," Gabriel demanded.

"Don't be hasty," Crowley admonished. "I told you, a fair exchange of information."

"Fine," Gabriel agreed. He didn't have to, but there was something about this demon that intrigued him. He was clearly ambitious and smart, if not especially powerful. It wasn't in his interests to involve himself in Hell's internal politics, but this Crowley was clearly going places.

* * *

Bobby shoved a huge pile of books into Sam's hands. "Start reading," he ordered.

"What am I looking for," Sam asked.

"Lore on the basilisk. Harry Merchant called an hour ago to say he think's he's tracking one in the basement of the Capitol building."

"In DC?" Sam said in astonishment.

"No," Bobby deadpanned. "The one in Havana. Of course in DC, ya idjit."

Sam held his hands up in surrender. "All right. I'm looking."

Dean leaned against the wall and watched them for a moment.

"Are you planning to help or were you just gonna stand around bein' decorative?" Bobby growled at him.

"I'm gonna hit the road. Garth left me a message, asked me to meet him in Indianapolis."

"What's there?" Sam asked.

Dean gave a helpless shrug. "No idea. But I need to talk to him anyway."

"You just remember what I told you," Bobby warned. "You're walking on very thin ice."

Dean nodded and raised a hand in farewell, then ambled out of the room.

"You're worried," Sam said.

"Can ya tell?" Bobby snarked. "Of course I'm worried. Between you and your idjit brother, it's a wonder I haven't checked myself into the looney bin."

"OK, I get why you're worried about me," Sam agreed. "And I'm sorry. I can leave if I'm-"

"Don't you dare," Bobby snapped.

Sam held up his hands in surrender. "OK, OK. But why are you so worried about Dean?"

Bobby put down the book on his lap and leveled a look at Sam.

"You're not worried? About whatever's going on between him and Castiel?"

Sam considered it. "Don't get me wrong, it's… taking some getting used to. I mean, I didn't even know Dean… well… y'know. But, that's not what this is about. You think getting involved with an angel is a bad idea."

"Yes, I do," Bobby said. "And that angel in particular. But I don't think there's much I can do. You've seen the look in your brother's eye, whenever Cas comes up in conversation. That boy's far gone. Ain't nothing you or I or anyone else can say to change his mind."

Sam's mouth dropped open. "You're not serious."

"As a heart attack," Bobby said. "Now, get back to work."

* * *

Dean cursed as he dampened a washcloth and began cleaning the ketchup off his jacket. All the monsters he and Sam fought, he was damned if a condiment was going to ruin his clothes. A movement caught his eye and he looked up. He jumped when his eyes met Cas's in the mirror.

"God," he said with feeling, thumping the sink. "Don't do that."

"Hello, Dean," Cas rumbled. He was close, just inches away. Dean stared at him.

"I uh-" Cas was studying his face and his brain froze. Was Cas going to kiss him again? "Can I uh-" he gestured towards the bedroom.

"My apologies," Cas said, stepping back. Dean grabbed his jacket and walked towards the bed.

"How'd you find me?" he asked. "I thought I was flying below the angel radar." He rubbed his ribs ruefully.

"You are. I called Bobby and he told me where you were." The angel paused. "Why did he tell me to keep my hands to myself? Where else am I going to put them?"

"Never mind," Dean said.

Cas looked around the room.

"Where's Sam? This room only has one bed." Dean swallowed and tried not to react.

"Me and Sam are taking separate vacations for a while. He's with Bobby, helping out. You find God yet?" He knew the answer would be no.

"No, I haven't found him," Cas said. "That's why I'm here. I need your help."

"With what? God hunt? Not interested." Dean said sullenly.

"It's not God," Cas said. "It's someone else. The archangel who killed me."

"Oh yeah," Dean said. "You were wasted by a teenage mutant ninja angel."

Cas looked puzzled. "His name is Raphael. I've heard whispers that he's walking the earth. This is a rare opportunity."

Dean rolled his eyes. "For what? Revenge?"

"Information."

Dean went back to the sink, grabbed his knife and the washcloth and started cleaning the blade.

"Raphael's not going to help you. He can't. He has no more idea where God is than you do."

"You seem very sure about that." Cas said. "I'd like to be certain. So we are going to trap him and interrogate him."

"You're serious about this?" Dean said, turning around. At the look on the angel's face he dropped the knife and the washcloth and walked back towards Cas. I'm Thelma and you're Louise and we're just going to hold hands and sail off this cliff together?"

Cas's cheeks went pink. Dean wondered whether he'd caught the reference or was just thinking about holding hands. He felt his own cheeks warm in response.

"This is a terrible idea," he said finally.

"You're Michael's vessel," Cas said. "No angel will dare harm you."

Dean was crushed. "Oh, so I'm your bullet shield."

Cas's face softened and his lips parted. "I need your help because you are the only one who'll help me. Please."

Dean just stared at him. This had not been a good idea last time. "All right, fine. Let's go."

"He's in Maine," Cas said. "Thank you." He reached out with his hand, at first it seemed like he was going to do the zapping thing, but then he slid his hand down Dean's jaw and cupped his hand there. Dean forgot how to breathe. He just watched as Cas examined his face. Then the angel's other hand came up and he leaned forwards, kissing Dean softly. He shuddered in response and Cas deepened the kiss. It was still soft and sensuous and Dean's senses were completely overwhelmed. And then Cas leaned back and smiled at him.

"OK," Dean said stupidly. "Uh. Let's hit the road."

Cas shook his head and reached out to touch Dean again with two fingers and Dean leaned away.

"Last time you zapped me someplace I didn't poop for a week. We're driving."

* * *

Gabriel gazed almost unseeing at the devastation. This was why he'd left Heaven in the first place. God should never have made the archangels, he thought. Too much power invested in beings that lacked the restraint to wield it. He'd flown blindly after his meeting with Crowley, and when he'd slammed back down to earth, he'd miscalculated and sent a shockwave along the faultline the humans called the Sunda megathrust. The resulting earthquake had killed hundreds and it was entirely Gabriel's fault. Shame swept over him and he left, heading off to find somewhere miles from humanity to think.

The uninhabited and unnamed island in the South Pacific was tiny and quiet. Gabriel lay on the beach and let the sea wash over his feet. He couldn't believe it. Heaven was supposed to keep track of dangerous artifacts like the Shadow Blade. What on earth was Raphael thinking? And now Lugh had it, and that was very worrying indeed. The demon had been too stupid to realize what he had on his hands if he'd been willing to exchange it for the Colt.

Sooner or later, he was going to be drawn into this fight. He'd tried so hard to keep Sam Winchester from heading down this road. He'd had no intention of even going that far until the brothers had stumbled into his life, years before. And before he knew what was happening, he found himself tracking them wherever they went and interfering in their lives. Sometimes in small ways, making sure a helpful book or useful website was easy to find and then he'd gone all out in his plan to push Sam in a different direction with the Mystery Spot plan. It had been a perfect scheme. He suspected Sam would figure out what was going on sooner or later. He hadn't bargained on it forcing the kid completely off the rails. That was a warning he'd failed to heed right there. Sam, red-eyed and tearfully begging and he just couldn't say no.

So what were his options now? Lucifer was free and sooner or later he'd find Sam and he'd figure out the kid's weaknesses. He'd convince or manipulate or straight up threaten and Sam would say yes. Dean, he wasn't so sure about. Michael was so certain of his righteousness, he'd probably never figure out how Dean ticked or what his pressure points were. Zachariah would understand but was too blinded by his own ambition to use the leverage Heaven had properly.

So he had to decide. Did he step back, and let them all figure it out? He could, but then he was assailed with the memory of kissing Sam in the panic room, the passion that had bloomed between them threatening to overwhelm them both. Fear rippled inside him. This obsession with the overgrown hunter was getting out of hand. He had to have a plan, to get Sam Winchester out of his system and show them both that their efforts to resist the inevitable were futile. He didn't want the Apocalypse, had done everything he could to prevent it. But he'd failed and there was nothing that could stop this runaway train now. A voice in his head told him he was a coward. He ignored it.

* * *

Dean walked through the empty cabin, paging through his dad's journal. Just as he set it down on the table, he felt a gust of wind and he turned to see Cas holding a ceramic jug.

"Where've you been?" he said.

"Jerusalem," Cas said, placing the jug on the table.

"Oh," Dean said. "How was it?" God, he sounded like an idiot.

"Arid," Cas replied.

"Holy oil?" Dean asked, although he knew the answer. He didn't care, he just wanted Cas to talk.

"Yes," Cas said, casting him a strange look. "It's very special. Very rare." He sat down.

"This ritual," Dean said. "Do we have any chance of surviving this?"

"You do," Cas said as if this were obvious.

"So odds are you're a dead man tomorrow," Dean said, hoping Cas would take the bait.

"Yes."

"Well," Dean said. His mouth was dry. He swallowed and rallied his nerve. "Last night on earth. What are your plans?"

"I just thought I'd sit here quietly," Cas said, looking puzzled.

"Come on, anything? Booze, women?" Dean pressed. He left unsaid what he really wanted, surely Cas would catch the drift. Cas looked at him and then his gaze slid away. He looked uncomfortable.

"You have been with women before. Or men. Right? Or an angel, at least?" Dean said, his voice cracking slightly. Cas rubbed the back of his neck. Dean stared at him, astonished. The way he'd kissed had not been the kiss of a virgin. Surely. "You mean to tell me you've never been up there doing a little cloud-seeding?"

"Look, I've never had occasion, okay?" Cas snapped.

"All right," Dean said, grabbing his jacket. "Let me tell you something. There are two things I know for certain. One, Bert and Ernie are gay." He paused, why the fuck had he said that? "Uh, two, you are _not_ gonna die a virgin. Not on my watch. Let's go."

* * *

Cas looked warily around the strip club and brothel Dean had brought him to and frowned. Why had Dean brought him here? In Indianapolis, he'd allowed himself the indulgence of kissing the hunter, and he'd honestly never felt better than in that moment. And when Dean had started to stumble down the 'last night on earth' speech, he'd seriously considered abandoning this principle of staying aloof altogether. Dean loved him, he… had strong feelings about the hunter and he was cut off from Heaven so why not? But then Dean had brought him here to this den of iniquity. Had Dean changed his mind? He didn't think so, but he thought the admission of his virginity to Dean had made the hunter back off a little.

What was he doing? He might be cut off from Heaven, but he was still an angel. That meant something. He wasn't like Lucifer. If anything, he supposed Anna was the closest thing he could aspire to as a fallen angel. And he was falling, of that he had no doubt. It was slow but he could feel his Grace leaking away. Every day, he was weaker and the spaces where his Grace used to be were filling up with anger and bitterness.

A woman had come over and was literally draped all over him. He wanted to be sick. Dean was grinning at him and making encouraging comments, and if he noticed that Dean's smile didn't reach his eyes, he didn't want to think about it. So he let her lead him out of the club and towards the back rooms. She was pretty and yet so filled with pain it was actually repellent. He looked into her eyes.

"It's not your fault, you know," he said gently. "Your father, Gene? He didn't leave because of you. He hated his job at the post office, that's all."

Dean had no idea where he was going with this. His entire plan had been to present Cas with the last night on earth gambit and then spend the evening seducing the angel. So why the fuck had he dragged Cas out to a strip club and pushed him at hookers? Maybe it was the pressure of the angel's virginity. Dean had never slept with a man who wasn't experienced and he was a little daunted by it. So here they were, and unless things had changed more than Dean thought, they'd get kicked out of here, the angel's virtue intact. That had been pretty funny, now that Dean thought about it. He could hear shouting and he smiled to himself. Showtime.

* * *

Zachariah curled his lip in contempt. Balthazar looked unabashed.

"Just what are you playing at?" he snapped.

"Me?" the angel said in surprise. "Nothing."

"Well then, explain to me the meaning of this!" Zachariah said, throwing the report in his hands onto the desk.

"Ah," Balthazar said nervously. "I swear it wasn't me. I don't have that kind of juice."

"Of course it wasn't you, you simpering moron," Zachariah barked. "This is archangel level stuff. It wasn't Michael, and it wasn't Raphael. So that leaves Lucifer. But the last I heard, Lucifer was circling his vessel. Which is in North America. Not Indonesia."

Balthazar shrugged helplessly. "You're certain it was unnatural?"

"Quite certain," Zachariah said acidly.

"And you're equally certain that Gabriel is dead?" Balthazar pressed.

Zachariah's mouth twisted. "No. But nobody's seen so much as a whisper of him for centuries. Millennia even. How could he possibly stay off the grid? As soon as he used his Grace for anything consequential, we'd all have felt it."

"Maybe he didn't use his Grace for anything but the bare minimum. You know, deliberately drop out of sight."

Zachariah rolled his eyes. "Are you brain damaged? Don't you remember Gabriel at all? Did he strike you as the type to go off and live the quiet life?"  
"No," Balthazar admitted. "But if he is dead, and Lucifer still hasn't entered his True Vessel, then that leaves only Michael or Raphael. My money's on Raph, he's got a wicked temper."

"Normally, I would agree with you," Zachariah said tiredly. "But I was meeting with Michael and Raphael the moment it happened. No, this is Lucifer. It has to be. It just doesn't make any sense."

"If Lucifer inhabited an inferior vessel, couldn't he do this?" Balthazar asked curiously.

"He'd have to consume demon blood by the gallon, just to keep from flying apart," Zachariah told him. "Eventually he'll have to do that if Sam Winchester continues to say no. He's just too powerless outside of a vessel. But I don't think we're there yet."

"Then that's your answer," Balthazar said. "Sam Winchester's a bleeding heart, even if he is an abomination. Lucifer sets off a few disasters, an earthquake here, a hurricane there and lays all those deaths at Sam's feet. Eventually, the kid breaks down and says yes. It's what I'd do." Zachariah eyed him suspiciously. "I'm just saying, if I were Lucifer, that's what I'd do."

"It's the best theory we've got," Zachariah admitted. "Very well, we proceed as if that's what's happened. Lucifer's in a backup vessel and that hands us an advantage. He's vulnerable in that state. Send a message to Michael. We really need to ratchet up the pressure on Dean Winchester."


	4. Chapter 4

Dean let Cas guide him back into the cabin, his arm slung across the angel’s shoulders.

“You should get some sleep,” the angel said.

“You wanna take me to bed?” Dean said suggestively. Cas shifted away from him suddenly and he staggered, gripping the table for balance. “Cas?”

The angel took a deep breath. “Dean. I owe you an apology. I’ve allowed myself to behave inappropriately towards you and perhaps given you a false impression.”

Dean stared at him, a creeping sense of horror crawling up his spine.

“You are a good man, Dean,” Cas said. “And I feel the honor of your love. But I cannot return it. I have let hubris and my own impending mortality blind me to the truth, that I have no business indulging in… in… in sexuality and I should have resisted the urge to… to… You deserve better than to be treated this way and I am sorry. I…” Cas looked away, his face suffused in shame.

Dean stared at him. “No,” he said.

The angel blinked in surprise. “No?” he asked, baffled. 

“No,” Dean repeated. “You’re scared. I get that. You’ve never done this before and you’re terrified. But it’s OK. I promise.” He took a chance and stepped closer. The angel quivered but did not retreat. “Cas, I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do. But I think you do want this. No-one who didn’t want it would kiss me the way you did in Indianapolis. So no, you don’t get to run away. You have to confront this thing between us at some point.” He sighed and stepped back again. “But it doesn’t have to be today. I’m not going to push. Because I do love you, and I want you to do what’s right for you. Even if it hurts me.”

Cas was suddenly as still as a statue. His eyes were fixed firmly on Dean’s and for a moment, the hunter wondered if the angel was going to disappear on him. Then the angel relaxed and moved forward. Dean’s breath caught.

“Dean,” he said wonderingly. “You are… incredible.” He reached out and touched Dean’s cheek and his eyes filled with tears. “But we cannot do this. Not ever. I’m sorry.”

Dean swallowed down his pain and disappointment and nodded. “OK. I hear you. You’ll hear nothing more about it from me.” He couldn’t look the angel in the eye any more. “I’m gonna hit the sack, get a couple hours before sunrise. Wake me when it’s time to go.” He turned and headed to the makeshift bed he’d arranged on the floor.

“I’m sorry, Dean” Cas whispered brokenly. “But it has to be this way.”

 

* * *

Lucifer tossed the remains of the demon to one side and snarled at the other standing in front of him. “What’s your name?”

“Uh, Quigley, sir. Majesty. Uh.” The meatsuit was a short, blond man in his early twenties. He couldn’t have been more than 100 pounds soaking wet.

“Quigley?” Lucifer sighed. “I bet you strike terror into the hearts of men with a name like that.”

“Sir?”

“Never mind. Where is Sam Winchester?”

“I uh, don’t know, Majesty. He’s dropped completely off the radar. I have an unconfirmed sighting of Dean Winchester in Maine.” Quigley twisted his hands in front of him in distress.

“If Dean is there, then so is Sam,” Lucifer told him. 

Quigley shook his head. “I don’t think so. My source says she saw Dean in the company of the angel Castiel. But no sign of Sam.”

“Castiel?” Lucifer said contemplatively. “The little rebel angel who could?”

Quigley looked confused. “Is the angel important?”

“I don’t know,” Lucifer admitted, his interest piqued. “What were they doing?”

“Lizzie said they went to a strip club, and then got thrown out.” 

“A strip club?” 

“Well, I guess it’s actually a brothel,” Quigley added.

“Dean Winchester took an angel to a brothel?” Lucifer began to laugh. “He took  _ Castiel  _ to a brothel? And they got thrown out? What did he do, offer to baptize the prostitutes?”

“I don’t know,” Quigley said. 

“Michael really doesn’t know what he’s dealing with, does he?” Lucifer chortled.

“But then there are the other rumors,” Quigley continued. “About Dean Winchester and Castiel.”

“What kind of rumors?” Lucifer asked, looking curiously at Quigley’s flushed face. 

“Uh. That they’re… together.”

Lucifer barked out another laugh. “You’re telling me there are rumors that Michael’s vessel is fucking Castiel? Oh, that’s too precious.” He sobered. “It’s nonsense, of course. Castiel’s got a stick rammed so far up his ass even Dean Winchester couldn’t get it out.”

“I don’t know,” Quigley objected. “I’ve got a lot of eyewitness reports.”

“Of them having sex?” Lucifer scoffed. 

“No. But they were seen kissing in the corridors of St Martin’s Hospital.” Lucifer’s eyebrows had disappeared entirely into his hairline. “They were really going for it, by all accounts.”

Lucifer’s mouth opened and closed several times. “If Michael finds out, he’s going to pitch a fit.”

“Yes sir,” Quigley agreed. 

“Very well,” Lucifer said. “You’re dismissed. Find Sam Winchester. And get me some more demon blood. I feel like I’m about to explode.”

 

* * *

 

“If God is dead, why have I returned?” Cas asked Raphael, who paced inside the holy oil circle like a caged tiger. “Who brought me back?”

Raphael rolled his eyes in derision. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe Lucifer raised you?”

“No,” Cas said firmly.

“Think about it,” Raphael coaxed. “He needs all the rebellious angels he can find. You know it adds up.”

With a supreme effort of will, Cas turned away from the archangel and towards Dean. “Let's go.”

“Castiel, I'm warning you,” Raphael boomed. “Do not leave me here. I will find you.”

“Maybe one day,” Cas agreed, looking over his shoulder. “But today, you're my little bitch.” 

Dean blinked and then turned his gaze to Raphael. “What he said,” he added and grinned, before following Cas out into the night.

 

Cas climbed into the passenger seat and stared out into the gloom.

“He’s wrong,” Dean said. The angel stayed silent. “I swear, Cas. He’s out there.”

“You seem remarkably certain of that,” Cas said. “Are you telling me you know where he is?”

“What? Uh no. But I know he’s around. Somewhere.”

“You’re lying,” the angel said in astonishment. “You know something.”

Dean gripped the steering wheel tightly. Damn you, Chuck.

“I can’t tell you anything more than I have,” he said lamely. The look of betrayal on Cas’s face was almost enough to undo him, but he knew Chuck would just zap him out of there if he tried to tell Cas the truth. And then the seat beside him was empty.

 

* * *

 

The man who had suddenly appeared in Bobby’s living room was blond and attractive. He sauntered up to Sam and smiled at him, a wicked, sultry smile. Somehow, Sam knew instantly who he was.

“Lucifer.” Sam breathed, fear making all his muscles contract. 

“You are a hard one to find, Sam,” Lucifer said, looking around Bobby’s living room. He picked up a mug off the coffee table that said Je t’aime Paris. “Harder than most humans. I don't suppose you'd tell me where you are?”

“What do you want with me?” Sam said.

Lucifer placed the mug back on the table and stalked towards Sam. Wearing just a pair of shorts and t-shirt, Sam felt naked.

“Thanks to you, I walk the earth,” Lucifer said, his eyes roaming Sam’s body. “I want to give you a gift. I want to give you  _ everything _ .”

“I don't want anything from you,” Sam said roughly.

“I'm so sorry, Sam, I, I really am, but Nick here is just an improvisation,” Lucifer said, gesturing to himself. “Plan B. He can barely contain me without spontaneously combusting.”

“What are you talking about?” Lucifer stepped closer, backing Sam up against the couch.

“Why do you think you were in that chapel?” he said gently. “You're the one, Sam. You're my vessel. My true vessel.”

“No,” Sam said, his throat closing in panic.

“Yes.”

“No,” Sam repeated. “That'll never happen.”

“I'm sorry, but it will. I will find you,” Lucifer promised. “And when I do, you will let me in. I'm sure of it.” Sam tried to back away but he was already against the couch and he ended up falling onto it. Lucifer’s eyes gleamed.

“You need my consent,” Sam said desperately.

Lucifer folded his arms across his chest. “Of course,” he said, sounding insulted. “I'm an angel.”

“I will kill myself before letting you in,” Sam said defiantly. Although it was hard to look brave, sprawled on a couch.

“I'll just bring you back,” Lucifer said with a shrug. He sighed. “Sam. My heart breaks for you. The weight on your shoulders, what you've done, what you still have to do. It is more than anyone could bear. If there was some other way...but there isn't. I will never lie to you. I will never trick you. But you will say yes to me.” He straddled Sam’s thighs and rested his arms on Sam’s shoulders.

“You're wrong,” Sam said, shaking with terror.

“I'm not,” Lucifer said. He stared at Sam’s mouth. “I think I know you better than you know yourself.”

“Why me?” Sam said, tears standing out in his eyes.

“Because it had to be you, Sam,” Lucifer said softly. “It always had to be you.” He laid a gentle kiss on Sam’s lips. His skin was cool and Sam felt a strange spark of… attraction. Full-on panic set in as he squashed the unwanted feeling down deep inside of himself. Lucifer leaned back and smiled knowingly at him. And then he was gone. Sam let out a shuddering breath. 

 

* * *

 

Zachariah let his head rest on the cool surface of the desk for a moment. This was altogether too much. Nobody should have to put up with this sort of thing. He lifted his head again and Samandriel eyed him nervously.

“It’s a trick,” he declared.

“Probably,” Samandriel agreed. “To make Michael angry and keep him off balance. An illusion, acted out in front of a dozen witnesses. Demon witnesses. Demons lie like breathing.”

“Fine,” Zachariah said, picking up the CCTV photograph of Dean Winchester and Castiel making out in a hospital corridor, and the insulting note.

 

_ Mikey, I see your prom dress is getting dirty. Love, Luci. XXX _

 

He shoved them both at Samandriel. “Get rid of them. Burn them if you have to. But make sure Michael never sees them.” There was a roaring sound from somewhere else in Heaven and Samandriel squeaked in alarm. Hannah appeared suddenly and she looked distraught.

“What’s going on?” Zachariah snapped and she pointed at the photograph and note in his hand.

“There are copies of that photo all over Heaven,” she stuttered. “Michael’s furious.”

Zachariah’s head was hurting. “Where did they come from?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Nobody seems to know. But there’s only one explanation.”

“Which is?” Zachariah prompted.

“We have a mole. Someone working for Lucifer inside Heaven.”

Samandriel and Zachariah stared at her in consternation. 

“Impossible,” Zachariah declared. 

“It’s the only explanation that makes sense,” Hannah said. “Michael’s on the warpath. He asked for you to report to him immediately.”

Zachariah wanted to weep. “I’ll go there directly,” he promised. 

 

* * *

 

Sam eyed Dean carefully as his brother unloaded the car. Dean was quiet and subdued and it was making him nervous.

“You need a hand?” he offered. 

Dean shook his head. “Nah, I’m good.”

“Dean, are you OK?”

“Me? I’m peachy.” He looked Sam up and down. “You don’t look so good though.”

Sam turned and walked inside the house and Dean followed.

“I dreamed about Lucifer last night,” he said. “Or rather, he talked to me in my dream. I’m pretty sure he was real.”

“Was it the same meatsuit as you saw in the motel?”

“No,” Sam said, the memory making fear thrill through his veins again. 

“So? What did he want?” Dean asked, assessing Sam’s expression.

“You were right,” Sam said. “He told me I’m his vessel. Wanted me to tell him where I was. Working on the mind games to make me say yes.”

“Asshole,” Dean commented. “But one nightmare didn’t make you lose ten pounds, Sam.”

“What?”

“I haven’t seen you in a while. Bobby sees you every day so he probably hasn’t noticed but you’ve lost weight.”

“You’re imagining things,” Sam dismissed with a wave of his hand.

“Are you eating?” Dean challenged.

“Of course,” Sam retorted. “When I’m hungry, I eat.”

“And how often are you hungry, Sam?” Dean said, pouncing on the get out clause Sam had constructed.

Sam looked away. “I’m fine, Dean. Stop nagging. So, that's it? That's your response?”

“What are you looking for?”  Dean said, perplexed.

“I don't know. A—a little panic? Maybe?”

“I already knew, remember. Not exactly an earth-shattering revelation at this point.” Dean told him. 

“What are we gonna do about it?” Sam said, tugging at his shirt collar in distress.

Dean looked at him steadily. “What do you want to do about it?”

“I want back in, for starters.” Sam said.

“Sam--” Dean started.

“I mean it,” Sam insisted. “I am sick of being a puppet to these sons of bitches. I'm gonna hunt him down, Dean.”

“Oh, so, we're back to revenge, then, are we? “ Dean said, folding his arms across his chest. “Yeah, 'cause that worked out so well last time.”

“Not revenge,” Sam corrected. “Redemption.”

“So, what, you're just gonna walk back in and we're gonna be the dynamic duo again?”

Sam glared at him in frustration. “Look, Dean, I can do this. I can. I'm gonna prove it to you.”

“I dunno, Sam. I mean look at you. You’re all strung out, you’re losing weight and you look like you’ve got two black eyes so I gotta reckon you’re not sleeping much. And you smell like a distillery.”

“You’re one to talk,” Sam snapped.

“Yeah, well, you were always supposed to be the stable one.” Dean said. “Look, I’ll think about it, OK?”

“All right,” Sam said, subsiding. “But we don’t have much time.”

 

* * *

 

Michael was a hard angel to read. Zachariah knew he was angry, but as he watched his boss pace up and down, it was hard to tell. He seemed more thoughtful than angry.

“I have spent some time considering this… provocation,” Michael said finally. He gestured to the pile of photographs and their accompanying notes. “And I have come to some resolutions.” He stopped pacing and looked severely at Zachariah. “You knew,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” Zachariah said carefully. “What is it you think I know?”

“About Castiel and Dean Winchester,” Michael said. “In fact, I hear it has been the subject of considerable gossip all over Heaven for months!”

“I thought it was just that, gossip,” Zachariah defended. “How was I to know Castiel was on the verge of rebellion, triggered by an inappropriate relationship with his charge? Such an obscenity hasn’t occurred in centuries.”

“It was your job to know,” Michael hissed. “They came very close to success too! You have been offered a chance to redeem yourself, but I can’t say I’m impressed with your competence.”

“Sir, I’m sorry. We’ll redouble our efforts. Dean Winchester can’t hide forever.”

“Very well. But now we have this other matter to attend to. The mole.”

“You really think it was an inside job?” Zachariah said. 

“Lucifer cannot enter Heaven,” Michael said. “No demon can enter either. Therefore it must have been an angel.”

“I agree,” Zachariah said. “But we already have a suspect. Castiel.”

“Castiel did not do this,” Michael said. He sounded oddly certain. 

“With the greatest respect,” Zachariah said through gritted teeth. “How do you know that?”

“If Castiel had entered Heaven, alarms would sound throughout. Just as if Lucifer tried to gain entry,” Michael told him. “He has not been here. And even if that were not true, how would this benefit him? No, this is someone else. And I intend to find out who it is.”

“What do you need me to do?” Zachariah asked. 

“I’m setting up a committee,” Michael told him. “The Unangelic Activities Committee. We must root out dissent and unrest, find the secret rebels plotting to bring about our downfall.”

“You think there’s more than one?” Zachariah said in alarm.

“It seems likely,” Michael said coldly. “We’ve become complacent, Zachariah. Lucifer’s Fall was so long ago, we tell ourselves it could never happen again. This must stop. We need constant vigilance against the creeping threat of disobedience. Castiel’s defection was a wake-up call. This attempt at undermining my leadership is another. I’m putting you in charge of the committee, Zachariah. Do not let me down.”

“No, Sir,” Zachariah said, his heart sinking. “Of course not.”

* * *

 

“What have you done?” Zachariah said from the passenger seat as Dean loosened the final nut on the driver’s side door.

“Uh, the window mechanism’s busted,” Dean said, nonplussed. “I gotta dismantle the door to get at it.”

“Not the stupid car,” Zachariah huffed in frustration. “I mean, how did you manage to protect yourself from being transported through time?”

Dean stood up and leaned forward, resting one arm on the roof of the car. He grinned. “Tried the Back to the Future crap again?”

“Again?”

Dean shrugged. “Not my problem.”

“You really are the most insufferable human I have ever had to deal with,” Zachariah complained. “And I once had Judas as my charge.”

“Oh so that fuck up was your fault as well?” Dean smirked. “Wow. Your superiors must be so proud.”

“Shut up, you little worm and tell me why I can’t send you forward in time.” Zachariah snarled.

“I don’t know for sure,” Dean said. “But I have a couple of guesses.”

“Enlighten me.”

“One is, it’s no longer a possible future. So you can’t send me into a future that doesn’t exist.” Dean stood up and walked around the car to the passenger side. Zachariah got out and glared at him. “And the other is, because I already rode this train.”

“What does that mean?” Zachariah spluttered.

“I’m already here on a time travelling gig. So I guess the universe has to put the brakes on.” Dean tossed the wrench in his hand in the air, caught it and dropped it into his toolbox. He grabbed a screwdriver and headed back to his faulty door.

“Someone else sent you through time to this point?” Zachariah said incredulously. “Who?”

“No idea,” Dean admitted. “Called themselves Tenebrae.”

Zachariah was staring at him in horror.

“She’s out?” he faltered. “Did you release her?”

“She’s a she?” Dean said in surprise. “No, I didn’t let her go. I don’t even know who or what she is.”

“This is terrible,” Zachariah said. “A disaster.”

“Like I say, not my problem,” Dean said easily. “Now, was there anything else you wanted.”

“Castiel,” Zachariah grated. “Where is he?”

Dean shrugged. “Around. Not here. Not today. I’ll tell him you called.”

 

* * *

 

Cool lips pressed butterfly kisses over Sam’s face and then trailed down his neck, over the sensitive spot that made him writhe and gasp.

“You see, Sam,” Lucifer’s voice was a sibilant whisper. “This isn’t so bad, is it?”

“Stop,” Sam protested weakly. 

“Your mouth says stop, but your body, mmh, your body says go.” Lucifer said. His fingers worked their way down Sam’s shirt, delicately unbuttoning each button as they went. 

“Oh,” Sam said. “Oh. No. Please. Oh.”

Lucifer had removed his shirt and his t-shirt and was working on the fastenings to his jeans. He licked an icy line up Sam’s chest and then crushed their mouths together. Sam wanted to resist, he tried so hard but Lucifer was a force of nature and his will began to crumble.

“So beautiful, Sam,” Lucifer said against his throat. He nipped at the skin and Sam jerked in shock and unwanted arousal. When Lucifer lifted his head, Sam saw traces of blood on his mouth and chin. “You taste so good, Sam.” Sheer terror shot through Sam like lightening. He shrieked and shoved at Lucifer, landing hard on the floor. He rolled over and looked around. Lucifer was nowhere to be seen. Dean snored peacefully from the floor and Cas was sat beside him, watching him with the saddest expression Sam had ever seen.

“Lucifer is entering your dreams,” Cas said. It was not a question.

“Yeah,” Sam admitted. “It’s pretty disturbing.”

“It will get worse,” Cas told him. “Right now he is trying to seduce you.” Sam’s throat closed. “Later he will threaten and then torture you.”

“Great,” Sam croaked. He got up and headed to the kitchen for some water. When he returned, Cas was once again watching Dean.

“What’s going on with you two?” Sam asked the angel bluntly. 

Cas started. “Nothing,” he denied quickly.

“Nothing?” Sam said mildly. “You sure about that?”

“I am an angel,” Cas said firmly. “Dean is my charge. There can be nothing more between us than that.”

“Sure,” Sam said. “That’s why you’re watching him sleep looking like your heart is breaking.”

A flap of wings and Cas was gone. Sam felt like an asshole. 


	5. Chapter 5

Hannah looked at the list Zachariah had given her in consternation.

"You're not serious?" she said.

"Perfectly," Zachariah told her. "Michael selected you himself."

"I'm not comfortable with this," she replied. "I'm sorry, Zachariah, but I can't do this. These angels are my friends."

"Are they though?" Zachariah said slyly. "After all, if one of them is the mole, then they're not really your friend are they?"

Hannah shook her head. "Nevertheless, I cannot do this. Ask someone else."

Zachariah nodded and waved at her in dismissal. And then he wrote her name down on another list. Right now that list was short. He had the feeling it would be much longer before the day was through.

A light tap at his door made him raise his head. Balthazar cracked the door open and Zachariah beckoned him inside.

"Michael believes there are angels who are working for Lucifer, here in Heaven. He's asked me to put together a committee to find those angels and prosecute them." Zachariah said without preamble.

"A committee?" Balthazar laughed. He sobered at the look in Zachariah's eyes.

"The Unangelic Activities Committee. I'd like you on board."

"You want _me_ to serve on this committee?" Balthazar said incredulously.

"Of course. Michael hand selected the angels he thought most trustworthy," Zachariah told him.

"Hmm, OK," Balthazar said. "What are we looking for?"

"Signs of rebellion or disobedience. Temptation. Anyone expressing sympathies for Lucifer or doubt about the coming Apocalypse."

"Come on, Zach!" Balthazar exclaimed. "Plenty of angels have doubts about the Apocalypse. It's entirely natural!"

"I see," Zachariah said icily. "Tell me, Balthazar. How long have you been holding these beliefs?"

Balthazar narrowed his eyes at Zachariah. "You lying snake," he snarled. "You didn't call me here to ask me to serve on the committee. You called me here to question my loyalties."

"Of course not," Zachariah soothed. "Your response to my explanation of the purpose of the UAC shocked me, that's all."

"Really," Balthazar said sarcastically. "I smell a set up. We're done here." He turned to leave the room and Zachariah sighed. Maybe Michael was right. Maybe the problem did extend further than Castiel's little personal rebellion. He shook his head. Balthazar had been right of course, he had been testing him. But he never believed Balthazar was anything but loyal. Luckily, expressing a few doubts about the Apocalypse was a minor infraction. He could be sent down to Naomi for a quick attitude adjustment.

"Wait," he said. Balthazar cocked an eyebrow at him. "I really do want you on this committee. I… apologize if it seemed like I was suggesting you were disloyal."

Balthazar rolled his shoulders. "All right. Fine. I'll serve on your damn committee." He glared at Zachariah and then stalked out of the room.

Zachariah slumped in relief. At least Balthazar wasn't going to be a problem. Hannah was a more serious problem. She had all but disobeyed a direct order from Michael by refusing to serve on the UAC. Zachariah chewed at his lip, that had been truly shocking. This was going to be unpleasant. He sent out a call to Razael, head of the Heavenly Guard, issuing the warrant for Hannah's arrest, as well as two other angels he'd already identified as potential traitors. Michael had assigned this unpleasant task to him because he could be trusted. Never let it be said that he didn't know how to do what needed to be done.

* * *

"You wanna drive?" Dean said, holding out the keys.

Sam looked down at them in surprise. "You sure?"

"Yeah, I could, uh...I could use a nap." Dean stammered.

Sam smiled at him and took the keys. He climbed into the driver's seat and Dean settled in beside him.

"I still can't believe you got your ass handed to you by Paris Hilton," Sam said.

"You know what, gimme the keys back," Dean snarled.

Sam laughed and Dean couldn't help but join in. And it was so good to hear Sam laugh again. It had been a long time.

"OK, OK. I take it back," Sam said.

"Bitch," Dean said.

"Go to sleep, jerk."

Dean closed his eyes and Sam pulled away, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to the music playing quietly on the radio.

After a few hours, Sam felt his lids begin to droop and he jerked his head up sharply. He needed to pull over and wake Dean. But his brother was sound asleep and Sam felt bad about waking him. Maybe he could just catch a quick nap. Even a half hour should be enough to perk him up again. He climbed into the back seat and settled back, draping his jacket over him for warmth.

He was startled by the touch of a hand on his arm. Lucifer was looking at him while perched on the seat near his feet and his face was filled with concern.

"You're not looking so hot, Sam," Lucifer said.

"How can I, when you won't let me sleep?" Sam snapped.

"You know what the solution is," Lucifer said. "Tell me where you are."

"Go away," Sam said.

"Now, that wasn't very polite was it?" Lucifer said. He shifted closer, pressing against Sam and slid his long fingers up the inside of Sam's leg. Sam's breathing hitched and desire rippled through him.

"No," Sam whispered.

"Yes, Sam," Lucifer said, leaning over him. He made quick work of undoing Sam's jeans and slipped his strangely cool hand inside. Sam gasped and Lucifer grinned. He nuzzled at Sam's neck and nipped at the skin.

"Oh God," Sam groaned. Lucifer was merciless. He seemed to know exactly how and where to touch.

"You're so responsive," Lucifer said into Sam's ear. "Do you know why that is?"

"No," Sam breathed.

"It's because you were made for me, Sam. We are two halves of a whole. Can't you see that? Can't you feel it?"

Sam writhed under Lucifer's ministrations, panting and desperate. "Please," he begged. "Please, stop."

"Oh I will, sweet boy," Lucifer promised, his hands still working relentlessly. "Just as soon as you tell me where you are."

Sam howled out his release and his eyes popped open. Dean was staring at him over the back of his seat, openly horrified. And his jeans were wet and sticky.

"Dude, what the fuck?" Dean said.

Sam hung his head in shame.

* * *

"Is this some kind of joke?" Crowley snapped and Simmons stepped back in surprise.

"Joke?" she said nervously. "No. It's not a joke."

"Who is it?" Crowley asked her. "Which moron did Uriel recruit to be Lucifer's inside angel?"

"I don't know," Simmons said, sounding a little desperate. "I swear we didn't know about this at the time. My spies said that Lucifer and Uriel talked about the Shadow Blade."

"So?"

"So how would Lucifer contact Uriel?" Simmons said urgently. "The only way you can talk to someone in the Cage is by physically going and visiting. Given its location, that makes communication virtually impossible. You had to escort Uriel to the Cage and out again, and you only did so the once."  
"What about Ruby?" Crowley asked.

"I've no evidence to suggest Ruby ever visited the Cage after she arranged Uriel's visit," Simmons told him. "It's not impossible, but I think it unlikely."

"Hmm," Crowley said. "Did anyone visit the Cage after me and Uriel?"

"Ba'al, of course. Samyaza, but that's not unusual. And one visit by Naamah."

"What was she doing there?" Crowley said, puzzled.

"According to her, she's going to be working with Pestilence. She's part of Lucifer's Horseman taskforce."

"And she's famous for corrupting angels," Crowley pointed out. "That's the answer. Naamah and Uriel must have been working together. He recruits one or more angels in Heaven by introducing them to Naamah and she works her wiles on them." Simmons wrinkled her nose in distaste and Crowley laughed at her. "Don't knock it till you've tried it," he advised. "Angels are like wild animals in bed, if you can tempt one in."

"You've had sex with an angel?" Simmons said curiously.

"Yep," Crowley said, buffing his nails on his jacket.

"Is he still an angel?" Simmons asked. "Or did his liaison with you cause him to Fall?"

Crowley gave her a wicked smile. "What do you think?"

"I think Lucifer might not be the only one with an inside man in Heaven." Simmons said.

* * *

Dean looked at Sam, curled up into a ball on his bed, and sighed.

"Dean," Cas said suddenly, appearing behind him. Dean almost died on the spot.

"Dammit, Cas, we've talked about this."

"Sorry," the angel said. He put a hand on Dean's shoulder. "You called. What's going on?"

"I don't know," Dean said heavily. "Sam's not in great shape. I know he's not sleeping and he's lost some weight. And then tonight, uh…"

"What is it?" Cas said. He sat on the bed beside Dean and moved his hand to the hunter's knee. Dean stared at it, and then looked up at Cas wide-eyed. "Dean? What happened?"

"Sam was driving," Dean explained. "And he must have gotten tired, 'cause at some point he pulled over to take a nap. I dunno why he didn't wake me up, but whatever. I'm woken up by this howling sound, which turns out to be my little brother, uh, having a wet dream."

"That sounds… embarrassing," Cas said uncertainly. "But he's a young man and I'm told this is quite normal."

"No, no, you don't understand. Look, Sam and I have been traveling together our whole lives. We went through puberty, the whole nine yards and we never had any privacy. So, this kind of thing, yeah it happens. It's embarrassing, sure, but nobody died. That's not the issue." He nodded in Sam's direction. "That's the issue. Sam's freaking out about it and I don't know why."

Cas thought about for a moment. "May I have a moment with Sam alone?" he asked.

Dean grimaced and then nodded. "OK." He got up and went out onto the balcony.

Cas sat on Sam's bed and laid one hand on his shoulder. Sam flinched away and Cas withdrew.

"Sam," he rumbled.

Sam opened his eyes and stared at Cas, his expression incomprehensible to the angel. Cas cursed his lack of experience with human emotions. He had no idea what Sam was feeling.

"Sam, Dean called me. He's worried about you," Cas settled on.

"I know," Sam said in a wobbly voice. "I'm sorry."

"It's OK," Cas reassured him. "Is this about Lucifer?"

Sam jerked away from in horror. "How did you know?" he whispered.

"I warned you," Cas said. "I told you it would get worse."

"You said torture," Sam accused. "I thought you meant thumbscrews and the rack. Not… not this!"

"Lucifer is very clever," Cas said tiredly. "He likes to find his target's weak points and exploit them."

"You think sex is a weak point for me?" Sam asked, his voice cracking.

"No," Cas assured him. "This isn't about sex. Not really. It's about temptation. You're still recovering from your demon blood addiction. You're fighting temptation every day. And while you're fighting that, you're more vulnerable to other temptations."

"So what do I do?" Sam said miserably. "How do I fight back?"

Cas gave him a strange look that Sam couldn't interpret. "You need… distraction." he said finally.

"What?"

The angel looked uncomfortable. "Dean picks up one night stands all the time," he explained. "I assume it's not too difficult."

"You're telling me to go out and get laid."

"Frequently," the angel agreed. Sam just stared at him. "Is this a problem? I know some humans don't care for it, but I thought you…" The angel coughed.

Sam took pity on him. "No, it's not a problem exactly. It was just… unexpected. From you, I mean." Cas's cheeks went pink. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"It's not… Don't worry about it, Sam."

Dean heard the door open and turned his head as Cas came and stood next to him.

"Did Sam talk to you?" Dean asked him.

"Yes," the angel rumbled. "It's Lucifer."

"What!" Dean yelped. "How is Lucifer related to my brother having a-" he broke off at the look in Cas's eye. "Oh my God!"

"Your brother is distraught because Lucifer has found the perfect way to torture him. And Sam's working so hard to resist the lure of his addiction, he has nothing left to fight Lucifer's seductions."

"And when you say seduction..." Dean said roughly.

"I mean sex, yes," Cas agreed equably.

"Jesus," Dean said with feeling. "Poor Sam. So is there anything we can do?"

"I advised Sam to indulge in some one night stands," Cas said.

Dean choked in surprise. "You did what?"

"Is that a problem?" Cas asked, looking puzzled.

"No," Dean managed. "Not really. It's just… I wasn't expecting that as a solution, I guess."

"Regular sexual intercourse will make it harder for Lucifer to tempt Sam," Cas told him.

"Doesn't that mean he'll try something else?" Dean said.

"Yes," Cas replied. "But hopefully it will not be as damaging to Sam's psyche."

* * *

Zachariah stared at the angel stood in front of his desk, her eyes streaming with tears. He himself was in scarcely better condition, perhaps a good cry would be cathartic.

"What are we doing, Zachariah?" Hael begged.

"God's work," he told her severely. "Michael charged me with finding the rebel angels in Heaven and that is what we are doing."

"I know that," Hael said. "But I feel like we're going over the top. There are twenty angels now in Heaven's prison. More than at any time since Lucifer's Fall. Are we really sure they're all in league with Lucifer?"

"Hael," Zachariah soothed. "I know it's unpleasant. But Michael was adamant, he did not want even the tiniest sliver of rebellion left. Maybe it does seem harsh. But if we allow the seeds of dissent to grow, then before we know it we'll have a full scale rebellion on our hands. With the Apocalypse so close, can't you see we can't afford that?"

"I suppose," Hael said, sniffing. "But it gets harder and harder every time."

"Go take some time off," Zachariah advised. "Go spend some time in the Garden, get yourself together. I could use a break too. I'll see you later." Hael nodded and withdrew.

Zachariah pinched the bridge of his nose. He'd never known angels could get migraines.

"Zachariah," Michael said, disturbing his reverie.

"Michael," he said, scrambling to his feet.

"I hear your efforts have been most successful," Michael said. "Twenty angels arrested, another forty assigned for attitude readjustment or reprogramming."

"Yes," Zachariah said in a low voice.

"You seem depressed," Michael observed. "This was a difficult task. But you were the only one I could trust."

"Thank you," Zachariah said. "I'm glad to be of service of course. But so many potential rebels, it was a shock."

"Of course," Michael said. "I understand how painful this must have been. You will be commended, Zachariah. Raphael and I are quite impressed. If you keep this up, hardly anyone will remember your failures and mistakes with the Winchesters."

Zachariah wanted to vomit.

* * *

Sam flicked a glance around the bar Dean had chosen and sighed. Apparently, his brother figured Sam wasn't perfectly capable of picking someone up on his own. Dean elbowed him in the ribs and pointed out a woman at the bar. She was attractive, certainly, with long dark hair and a bright smile as she talked with the barman. But she wasn't what Sam was looking for tonight.

He ignored his brother as Dean got up to talk to a brassy blonde over by the jukebox. There was a man at the bar. Tall, lean and in jeans so tight Sam wondered if they'd been sewn on. Swallowing a strange nervousness that fluttered in his throat, he tried to walk over casually. His shock when the man turned and he recognized him was palpable.

"Hello, Sam," Luke said.

"Uh, hi," Sam said. "I wasn't expecting to see you here." He winced at the lameness of it.

Luke grinned. "I told you, the longer you hold out, the harder it gets. Why suffer, Sam? I'm right here and more than happy to help." He gave Sam a blatant up and down look. Sam considered it. He didn't know what Luke was, but after his Lucifer nightmares he figured anything had to be better than that. So it was completely unexpected when Dean appeared at his elbow.

"Lugh, you son of a bitch! What the fuck are you doing here?"

Sam turned to Dean in shock. "You know each other?"

"Yeah. His name's Lugh. Irish god or something. And your enemy, Sam."

Sam's heart almost stopped. Lugh had been the name Zila had mentioned to him. "My enemy?" he stuttered.

"Long story," Dean said shortly. "Come on, we're leaving."

"Not so fast," Lugh said with a lazy smile. "Sam, Dean's lying to you. I'm not your enemy. I'm just a hot guy in a bar and Dean's being an ass." He was staring directly into Sam's eyes and Sam felt a little dizzy. "Why won't he let you just go have some fun?"

"No," Sam slurred. "He brought me here."

"Did he do that for you, or for him?" Lugh said persuasively.

"Both," Sam said unsteadily.

"Sam!" Dean said urgently. "He's putting some mojo on you!"

"Why would I do that?" Lugh asked, his voice low and hypnotic. "I'm not that desperate."

Sam swayed as Lugh's will battered his mind. And then a hand on his arm brought him back to himself and he found himself looking into Cas's eyes.

"This is your cue to leave," Cas said to Lugh, who shoved back angrily from the bar and stalked towards the door.

"Cas," Dean said with relief. "Thank God."

"Dean, why was Lugh here?" the angel asked, looking very worried.

Dean looked around, the barman was openly staring at them and his hot chick had apparently departed. "Let's go back to the motel," he said. "I'll explain there."

* * *

As soon as they entered the motel, Cas rounded on Dean.

"How do you know Lugh?" the angel asked. Dean shrugged.

"Technically, you introduced us I guess."

"In the future," the angel said dryly. Dean nodded.

"OK," Sam said. "Who is this Lugh?"

"Tuatha de danaan," Cas said absently, still studying Dean. "He's old, powerful, capricious and dangerous."

"And Sam's one-time fuck-buddy," Dean added. Sam gaped at him.

"You're not serious!"

"I wish I weren't," Dean told him.

"All right, this has gotten out of hand," Sam said. "Why does Lugh think I'm his enemy?"

"Because you were instrumental in getting him handed over to the Wild Hunt," Dean explained. "Apparently he holds a grudge."

"But that hasn't happened yet!" Sam objected. Cas raised an eyebrow at him.

"Sam's right. Lugh's power doesn't extend to time travel. Illusions of time travel, perhaps, but not the real thing." Cas told him.

"Could he be working with someone else?" Sam asked.

"Of course," Cas replied. "But who did you have in mind?"

"Well, Dean was sent here by a being who called itself Tenebrae. And I met a woman who called herself Zila. She told me Lugh was my enemy too, by the way." Sam gulped as Dean's fists clenched. "Tenebrae means shadow in Latin. Zila means shadow in Arabic."

Cas gasped. "No!"

"What is it, Cas?" Dean asked.

"It's not possible," Cas said, looking shaken. "She's been imprisoned for centuries."

"Who?" Sam and Dean echoed together.

"Zurvan." Cas said faintly.

"Zurvan?" Sam repeated. "As in the Zoroastrian god of time? I thought Zurvan was a guy."

"Zurvan can be whatever she wants to be. And she prefers the female form."

"Well, she said she and Lugh are working together to prevent the Apocalypse. She even asked if I would help." Sam added.

Dean's fists clenched. "Are you telling me that this whole time-travel gig is Lugh's doing? That… fucking… son-of-a-bitch!" he screamed. "He tricked me!"

"Trickster's will do that," a new voice said. "Oh, boy. Haven't you fucked up royally?"

* * *

Sam, Dean and Cas all stared at the newcomer. The Trickster was leaning against the motel room door, but his face was serious.

"Gabriel!" Dean and Cas said together. Then Cas grabbed Dean's arm.

"Wait, how did you know this was my brother?" he demanded.

"Time-travel, remember," Dean said. "Although last time we didn't find out who he was until later. Sam just stared at the Trickster. No, at the freaking Archangel Gabriel.

"Awesome," Gabriel said. "I gotta say it, you Winchesters, you really take the cake." He looked at Sam with affection. "Hey, Sammy."

"You're Gabriel?" Sam said stupidly. " _You're_ Gabriel?"

"Yep. That's my name. Don't wear it out."

"You're _Gabriel?"_

"I think he's malfunctioning," Gabriel commented.

"Yeah, and this time you haven't even slept with him," Dean said sourly.

"What!" Sam exclaimed and Gabriel looked smug.

"I _do_ have that effect on people," he said slyly.

"All right, that's enough," Cas said sternly. "Brother, as delighted as I am to see you, what are you doing here?"

"Well," Gabriel drawled. "You boys have got a pretty pickle to unravel."

"Yeah, no thanks to you," Dean interjected.

" _I_ am entirely blameless in this affair," Gabriel informed him. "I can't be held responsible for deeds my future self performed." Cas narrowed his eyes at him.

"That's… not true," he said, sounding shocked. "You no more exist in the flow of time than any other archangel." Gabriel shrugged modestly.

"I try not to buck the system too much," he said. "It messes with my karma." Cas rolled his eyes.

"Stop!" Sam declared. "Just stop. My head hurts. What's going on?"

"Lugh and Zurvan worked together to trick your brother into reliving the Apocalypse, blow by blow so to speak," Gabriel waggled his eyebrows at Sam, who pointedly turned away from him and towards Cas. Gabriel grinned. "We can discuss the blowing part later."

"Shut. Up." Sam gritted out.

"Brother," Cas said irritably. "Please." Gabriel stepped forward and reached out to Dean, who flinched away.

"Oh, get over yourself," Gabriel said. "I'm not the angel who wants to get in your pants." Cas's eyes widened in horror. Gabriel touched Dean's forehead and concentrated for a moment. Then he nodded. "Just as I thought." He huffed out a breath. "Dammit. I never wanted to be dragged into this mess."

"Then leave," Cas said coldly. "We've managed without you for two millennia. I'm sure we can cope for a while longer."

"Oooh, Castiel," Gabriel said. "Haven't you gotten catty since I left? Hmm. Well, there's not much I can do here anyway. Later, bitches." He snapped his fingers and vanished.

"Could this day get any more awesome?" Dean sighed.


	6. Chapter 6

Sam had been in the bathroom an awful long time. Dean had gone from amusement to irritation and now to full on concern. He rapped sharply on the door.

"Sam?" he said. "Look, I don't wanna interrupt your personal time but I just need to know you're OK."

There was no reply from inside. He hammered harder on the door, the cheap wood deforming from the force. He almost fell when Sam suddenly wrenched the door open. He could smell vomit and Sam's face was pale.

"Sammy," he said. "You're sick."

"Not really," Sam said. "What do you want?"

"You've been in there for an hour," Dean said. "Bobby called with some news, I said we'd head over."

Sam gave a long sigh. "OK. Gimme five more minutes and I'll be ready to go." He closed the door again.

"Dammit, Sam."

But his brother was as good as his word, and he reappeared after a few minutes.

"What's going on with you, Sam?" Dean asked.

"It's nothing," Sam said sullenly.

"Like Hell it is," Dean snapped. "You're still losing weight. I see you eat, so what's going on." Sam looked away and Dean grabbed his arm. "Sam!"

"I don't know for sure," Sam said, giving in. "I just can't keep anything down. And you're right, I'm down over thirty pounds now."

Dean gaped at him. "Losing weight that quickly can't be safe, Sam."

"What do you want me to do?" Sam demanded. "I'm not some bulimic teenage girl. I've got no control over it. At first I thought it was a reaction to my demon blood withdrawal, but now I'm beginning to wonder."

"Wonder what?"

"I think it's Lucifer. I think he's trying to wear me down from multiple angles. Eventually he hopes I'll say yes just to make it all stop." Sam's shoulders hunched and Dean ached inside.

"OK, Sam. We'll figure something out, OK. I promise."

* * *

 

Once Sam had fallen asleep, Dean slipped out of the room and leaned against the car.

"Cas," he prayed. "I need to talk to you. Please."

"Hello, Dean," Cas said in his ear and he startled.

"Fuck!"

"You called," the angel pointed out.

"Yeah," Dean said. "Look, it's about Sam."

"What's wrong?" Cas said. "Is the solution I suggested not working?"

"What?" Dean said surprised. "No, no. I… As far as I know he hasn't had a chance to try it. But he's sick, Cas. According to him, he can't eat a meal without purging it all. He's lost thirty pounds."

"And you think it's Lucifer?" Cas asked.

Dean nodded. "It's either Lucifer or his addiction. But my money's on Lucifer."

"It makes sense," the angel agreed. "We really need Gabriel's help."

"Why?" Dean snarled. "I don't think that son-of-a-bitch is interested in helping."

"That's my brother you're talking about," Cas reminded him stiffly. "And Gabriel seems to have a… special interest in Sam." Dean arched a brow at Cas and the angel had the good grace to color.

"Look, if you think you can get Gabriel on board, I can't say I'm happy about it, but we're low on allies." Dean said finally.

Cas nodded. "I'll be right back," he promised. He gazed at Dean for a moment and looked rather sad. Dean swallowed and Cas was gone.

* * *

 

Gabriel folded his arms and regarded Kali with raised eyebrows.

"I'm sentimental," he admitted. "But this is insane."

"Nonsense," Kali said. "What else are we supposed to do? Your lot will destroy the world over some stupid sense of symmetry. This is our earth too."

"I'm not saying it's right," Gabriel told her. "I'm not defending my family at all. But if you go up against them, you'll die."

"You're a coward," Kali snarled. "You always were."

"Perhaps," Gabriel agreed. "You didn't sleep with me for my bravery."

"No," Kali agreed. "You did have other… attractions." He waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively. "Stop that."

"Why?" Gabriel pouted. "You used to like it."

"You used to mean it," Kali said. "But someone else has your eye now."

"No," Gabriel scoffed. "I swear."

"And you're lying to yourself about it? Interesting. I wonder who she is." Kali studied the way his body tensed. "Or he?" she said archly.

"Shut up," Gabriel said without heat.

"Look, it's happening," Kali said. "With or without you. I've told you what's going on. We're even."

"It's your funeral," Gabriel said sadly.

* * *

 

This committee meeting was more like a funeral, Balthazar thought. He shifted uncomfortably. His attitude readjustment at Naomi's hands had thankfully not produced any meaningful changes in his thought processes as far as he could tell, although how he would know he wasn't sure. But it seems the sigil he'd gotten from a… special friend had protected him from Naomi's ghastly predations. So now he had the seal of approval and should be safe from further suspicion. He hoped.

"I'd like to call this meeting to order," Zachariah was saying. Samandriel was standing by his shoulder, his face pale and drawn. Samandriel was a good sort, but soft hearted. Balthazar doubted he'd survive this war. It was a shame, really. The young angel handed a sheaf of papers to Zachariah. Balthazar allowed himself a moment of visceral hatred towards the pen-pushing, spineless fuck before squashing it ruthlessly. He had to stay focused or he'd end up like those poor bastards in Heaven's increasingly overstretched prison.

"We have a problem," Zachariah announced. "We currently are at prisoner capacity and Michael has asked the committee to suggest a solution." Balthazar felt uncomfortably like his superior had just read his mind.

"Naomi reports that she cannot process any more angels without significant extra resources," Bartholomew said blandly. "And we have concerns that the most rebellious angels may be developing resistance."

"Resistance?" Zachariah said in alarm.

"Yes. Nuriel and Puriel have Fallen. They're Lucifer's now. This is despite three attempts at reprogramming."

"This is a disaster!" Zachariah exclaimed. "Why wasn't I informed?"

"I just informed you," Bartholomew said mildly. "I myself only found out a few moments ago."

"So, if we declare the outright rebels as irredeemable, what do we do?" Hael asked faintly.

"If we throw them out of Heaven, they join Lucifer's ranks," Bartholomew asserted.

"But the prison is full," Naniel pointed out. "Razael's at his wit's end."

Balthazar wanted to tune the arguing out. They were going in circles trying to avoid the answer Michael probably had already decided upon.

"If they can't be reprogrammed, they can't be imprisoned and they can't be expelled then you're talking about execution," Hael said, her voice breaking.

The room went silent. Balthazar looked at his fellow angels, his stomach roiling. He wanted to say something, to object to this appalling idea. But he couldn't. To do so would see him tossed in the brig with the others stupid enough to speak out. He knew he was a coward. But he couldn't see another way out.

"I think that's a bit extreme," Haniel said finally.

"Is it?" Bartholomew asked him. "Is it going too far? Or is it excising diseased tissue so the body can live?"

"You're talking about our brothers and sisters," Naniel snapped. "What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with you?" Bartholomew retorted. "The Apocalypse is happening. Any moment, Lucifer will convince his vessel to let him in, and then the real battle begins. Do you want to fight side by side with angels who might stab you in the back?"

"All right," Zachariah said tiredly. "Let's keep it civil. Haniel and Naniel are right, Bartholomew. We're not at the point of executions yet. Balthazar, talk to Naomi and find out what she needs to expand her throughput. Hael, ask Razael to report to me. We can discuss temporary overflow prison accommodations."

"I have another suggestion," Naniel said. "I was talking to Dina, in the scribe's office. She says there are sigils that can be used to bind an angel's power."

"I'm aware," Zachariah said acidly.

Naniel blinked. "Well, could that be a temporary solution? Brand the angels and assign them to non-sensitive roles?"

Zachariah looked thoughtful and slightly pained. Balthazar wondered if something similar had ever happened to him.

"Send Dina to me," he said finally. "We'll discuss it." He brought his hands together. "Meeting dismissed. Balthazar, I need a private word."

The angels filed out and Balthazar eyed Zachariah nervously.

"I see your attitude adjustment went well," Zachariah said. "Good. I need information on the defected angels, Nuriel and Puriel. Did they really join Lucifer's ranks? Has Castiel? You move more easily among the humans than most angels. Find out where these angels are and what they're doing."

"Of course," Balthazar said smoothly and nodded respectfully. He turned to leave.

"And Balthazar," Zachariah said. "No… fraternizing."

"I don't know what you mean," Balthazar said blandly.

"Good," Zachariah said. "Humans are off-limits. Remember that."

* * *

 

Gabriel plopped down on the dock next to Castiel, looking at the lake in bemusement.

"Fishing, Castiel?"

"It helps me blend in," Castiel told him.

"You're in a suit," Gabriel said with a laugh. "While fishing. You look ridiculous."

"I need your help," Castiel told him.

"OK," Gabriel said. "What do you need?"

"It's Sam Winchester," Castiel said sorrowfully. "Lucifer's tormenting him and he's trying to beat his demon blood addiction at the same time. It's more than any human can bear and it's destroying him."

"And you want me to clean him up, give him some tools to fight dear old Luci's influence?" Gabriel said bluntly.

"Yes," Castiel said. "If what Dean says about you is true, I believe you already like Sam."

"Dean Winchester's got a big mouth," Gabriel said tightly. "I think I should sew it up for him."

"Do not touch him," Castiel growled and Gabriel leaned back in surprise.

"OK," he said slowly. "Brother, are you all right?"

"No," Castiel told him. "I'm falling."

Gabriel peered at him for a moment. "Yes, you are, aren't you? In more ways than one."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Castiel said, scrunching up his face.

Gabriel shrugged. "Nothing. Come on, let's go talk to Sam."

"I thought you'd be more resistant," Castiel admitted.

"I would have been. Then your pet humans set Lucifer free, and Zurvan is out of her cell. Something had to give."

* * *

 

Crowley blinked at the sudden appearance of an angel in his living room.

"Balthazar?" he said in confusion. "What are you…" He was cut off by the blond angel striding across the room and grabbing him by the lapels, kissing him with a kind of wild desperation that outdid any of their previous encounters. He let the angel take what he needed. Balthazar pushed him back onto the couch and covered the demon's body with his own. Crowley moaned as Balthazar tore at his clothes and sucked hard on his neck.

Crowley writhed under the angel's ministrations. "Oh, my…" he breathed as Balthazar abandoned his neck and moved lower. Then with an impatient gesture, Balthazar dismissed the rest of their clothing and spread Crowley's legs. Balthazar leaned over the demon, his breath hitching, and stared down at him. Crowley gave him an encouraging grin and that was enough, Balthazar surged forward and Crowley's head snapped back as his back arched.

"Fuck…" he groaned.

"Yes," Balthazar agreed breathlessly, never breaking his rhythm. He rode Crowley hard and mercilessly, dragging yelps of pleasure and need from the demon's throat. There was a tap at the door and Crowley distantly heard it open, but he didn't care. There was a low gasp and the door closed again. Crowley closed his eyes and focused on the desperate angel driving his body higher and closer. Everything else could wait.

* * *

 

"So, where is he?" Gabriel said as soon as he landed in Bobby's living room. Bobby slid a shotgun out from under his wheelchair and pointed it at him.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" the grizzled old hunter snarled.

"Bobby," Gabriel said tightly. "Where's Sam?"

"Am I speaking in Swahili?" Bobby demanded. "I don't remember nobody calling for no Trickster. So why don't you just piss off and go bother someone else."

"You haven't spoken to Sam or Dean then," Gabriel said in concern. "Or Castiel?"

"No I haven't and even if I had, I wouldn't tell you." Bobby snapped. "Now clear off."

"This is bad," Gabriel said. "Castiel said they were coming here. I'm Gabriel, by the way."

"And I'm the Virgin Mary," Bobby said sarcastically. "Nice to meet you."

Gabriel canted an eyebrow at him. "Boy, did you let yourself go."

"Ha ha. Now leave." Bobby insisted. "And in future, don't insult my intelligence."

The door opened suddenly and Sam and Dean entered, carrying a barely conscious Castiel.

"What the Hell happened to him?" Bobby barked. Gabriel moved close to his brother and examined him.

"How long has been like this?" he asked. Dean exchanged a look with Sam.

"An hour. Maybe two."

"OK. Give him to me, no wait, let's put him on the couch." Gabriel instructed. Bobby wheeled his chair over.

"What the fuck is going on?" he bellowed.

Sam turned to him and gave him an apologetic look. "Cas was trying something, we're not sure what. And then he blacked out. Oh, and this is Gabriel. I don't know if we ever told you that."

"So he claims," Bobby said, only slightly mollified. Gabriel's head snapped around and he glared at Bobby. Clearly this was meant to intimidate but God damn it, this was his house. Gabriel touched two fingers to his head and then pushed his wheelchair away.

"Go get us a drink," he ordered. When Bobby started to wheel himself away, muttering under his breath, Gabriel added, "Leave the wheelchair behind. We're going to need it."

"You expect me to drag myself to the kitchen?" Bobby said, outraged.

"Or you could just walk," Gabriel said through gritted teeth. "Like a normal person."

"Boy, you better watch your mouth-"

Gabriel turned on him. "You're healed. You're welcome. Now will you please get me some whiskey and let me work on what's wrong with my brother?" He turned back to Castiel, his shoulders bristling. Sam frowned at Bobby and then exchanged a look with Dean.

Bobby looked down at his legs. He stretched one out, experimentally, and then a slow smile spread across his face. "I'll be damned…"

"It can be arranged," Gabriel snarled. "Whiskey. Now."

Bobby stood up carefully and made a few tentative steps. And then he almost skipped into the kitchen. Dean shared a grin with Sam.

A bottle of whiskey was thrust into Gabriel's hand and he twisted off the cap and took a long swallow.

"Does that stuff even affect you?" Sam asked curiously.

"No," Gabriel said. "But it will on him." He nodded at Cas. "His Grace is so low he's practically mortal."

"OK," Sam said. "But he's unconscious." Gabriel rolled his eyes at the hunter's observational skills. "Why do you need whiskey if he's out cold?"

"I'm going to wake him up," Gabriel explained tightly. "He's going to be in terrible pain. Hence the whiskey." He extended a tendril of Grace, gently prodding at his brother. Cas groaned. Pleased at the response, he pushed a little harder and Cas's eyes flew open. And then he screamed, a piercing, painful sound that made everyone wince. Gabriel leaned over him, and placed the bottle to his lips. He poured fully half the bottle into the angel before Cas pulled away.

"Better," he slurred.

Gabriel gave him a pained smile and then looked up at Sam. "He'll live."

"What's wrong with him?" Sam asked. "You said his Grace was low."

"Falling is hard," Gabriel said, his throat closing with sorrow. "It's almost complete. By morning he'll be fully mortal."

"I don't understand," Dean said. "Cas said it was a slow process. That it would take months. He said he had plenty of time."

"He must have tried something that drained all his Grace at once," Gabriel said. "Major healing, or time manipulation, something like that."

"Time manipulation?" Dean said weakly.

"Castiel's done that to you before, right?" Gabriel said. Dean nodded. "Maybe he was trying something like that again."

"Why?" Dean said roughly. "Surely he knew it was dangerous."

Gabriel looked fondly down at his brother. "He must have had a good reason." He gave Dean a meaningful glance. "A very good reason."

"Don't look at me," Dean said sullenly. "I didn't ask him to do this."

* * *

 

Balthazar was curled around his body, his head on Crowley's chest.

"What's going on?" Crowley said, carding a hand through the angel's hair. "I haven't seen you in months and then… this?"

"I don't know if I can bear it," Balthazar mumbled. "Heaven's tearing itself apart."

"Wars are hard," Crowley said sympathetically. "Even the most well-run battles get chaotic."

"No," Balthazar disagreed. "You don't understand. Everyone's lost their minds. We're turning on each other, rather than focusing on the real enemy."

"Is this still fallout from Uriel's… machinations?" Crowley asked.

"I don't think so," Balthazar said. "It's bigger than that." He looked up. "Are we warded here?"

"Not fully," Crowley admitted. "You'd never have gotten in if it was. Don't mention any names."

Balthazar settled back on his chest, idly twirling his fingers in Crowley's chest hair. "My boss has set up this committee to root out dissent and rebellion."

"What a piece of work that angel is," Crowley commented. "He'd have made an excellent demon."

"True," Balthazar agreed. "But it wasn't his idea. This came from the top."

"You don't mean… the big guy?"

"What? Oh no, he's still MIA. No, I mean my oldest brother."

"Ah," Crowley said. What was Michael thinking, he wondered. Such a move would undermine the morale of the Heavenly Host, just when he needed them to be united.

"That's not even the worst of it," Balthazar said brokenly. "Today they openly discussed execution for rebel angels. It wasn't approved but now it's out there. How long before it comes up again?"

Crowley squeezed him tightly. "You have to stay safe, darling."

"I will," Balthazar promised. "You know me, I'm a survivor. But Heaven's teetering on the edge of the abyss. If this doesn't stop, there'll be nobody to stop L- your boss. I know you don't want that any more than I do."

"So what do you want from me, Balthazar?" Crowley said gently. The angel swallowed and Crowley could feel the movement against his stomach.

"This madness comes from the top," Balthazar said against his skin. "We have to cut the head off the snake."

Crowley pulled away from the angel in horror. "You want me to plot to assassinate an archangel?" he yelped.

"Keep your voice down," Balthazar snapped.

"Don't worry," Crowley told him. "I might not have warded against angels, but this place is secure against curious eavesdroppers. Now explain to me how killing… him… helps in any way."

"If my brother is gone, R- another brother can take over. A saner, more rational brother."

"You're out of your mind," Crowley told him. He pressed a kiss to Balthazar's forehead.

"Perhaps," Balthazar said. "In which case I fit right in, the way Heaven is these days."

"OK," Crowley said. "Why come to me? Why not take this directly to… my boss?"

Balthazar shifted uncomfortably. "Because I'm not trying to derail the Apocalypse. I'm not a rebel, Crowley. Don't let this…" he waved a hand vaguely, "... whatever we have, mislead you. I'm doing this because if I don't, Heaven will fall and L- your boss will win by default. He'll rule over the earth unopposed."

Crowley sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. "You're not making this easy on me, sweetheart."

"I know," Balthazar said.


	7. Chapter 7

As Sam crept down the stairs, he could see Gabriel was sat on the edge of the couch, looking down at Cas as he slept. Sam padded through to the kitchen and grabbed a water glass, filling it as quietly as he could. He jumped when he turned around and found Gabriel standing by the table, looking at him.

"Uh, hey." Sam said hoarsely. "How's Cas?"

Gabriel heaved a sigh. "Alive. But his Grace is gone. There's nothing I can do."

"I'm sorry," Sam said.

"I just want to know why," Gabriel said. "Why has my brother done this to himself?"

"Well, ever since he got cut off from Heaven, his Grace has been dwindling away." Sam said. "Maybe he just wanted to get it over with. Rip the band-aid off fast instead of slow."

"You misunderstand," Gabriel said tightly. "Why was he cut off from Heaven?"

"You don't know?" Sam said in surprise. He gestured to Gabriel to take a seat. "It's a bit of a long story." He sat in a chair and blinked when Gabriel chose to perch on the table, looking down at him. He gulped and then recounted the tale as best he could, skimming the parts he knew Gabriel already was aware of.

"So, let me get this straight," Gabriel said when he'd finished. "Castiel disobeyed Heaven, to help Dean-o try and stop you from popping Luci out of his box?"

"Pretty much."

"You still haven't explained why," Gabriel pointed out.

Sam gave him a helpless gesture. "I don't really know why."

"Castiel is one of the most loyal soldiers Heaven ever had. Zachariah's a douchenozzle, I'll grant you, but that wouldn't be enough." Gabriel's eyes were fixed on his and his pupils were wide. Sam stared at him, noting the different colors and the long lashes that framed his eyes. The angel was beautiful, he thought.

Gabriel cupped his chin. "Focus, Sam," he instructed. "Why did Castiel rebel?"

"Zachariah engineered the whole mess," Sam said, trying to ignore the warmth of Gabriel's hand. "According to Cas, Michael had decided to give the Apocalypse a helping hand and Zachariah was his point man. For all I know, even Lucifer was in on it. I guess that pushed Cas over the edge."

Gabriel let him go and leaned back. He looked up at the ceiling, exposing the long line of his throat. Sam's mouth went dry. "It's plausible," he said, huffing out a breath.

"And well, I think Dean had something to do with it," Sam added.

Gabriel looked down at him.

"What?"

"I don't know," Sam said. "There's something weird going on between them. Dean's in love with Cas, at least that's what Bobby and I think. And Cas? I dunno. A few weeks back, when Bobby was still in the hospital, he kissed Dean into incoherence. But since then, he's been more distant and Dean…" he broke off, shaking his head. "Dean just pushes everything down with anger and booze. Bobby warned Dean away from Cas. He thinks a relationship between them is a bad idea. But Dean wouldn't listen to Bobby if he didn't want to. So I gotta think that Cas is the one who backed away."

"I swear," Gabriel said. "You Winchesters are like the world's weirdest soap opera."

"Well, that's all I know," Sam said, pushing back his chair.

"Wait up, Sammy," Gabriel said. Sam paused and looked at him expectantly. "Castiel told me you had a few troubles of your own."

"It's nothing," Sam said.

"Really?" Gabriel said sarcastically. "You just decided to drop a bit of weight and you're totally over the demon blood thing." Sam looked away. "I can help, Sam."

"You've said that before," Sam said icily. "I wasn't prepared to pay the price."

Gabriel jumped down off the table, his face solemn. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that. That was a shitty thing to do. I'm offering this for free. Kinda."

"What does that mean?" Sam said warily.

"Well, given our mutual attraction, sex might get thrown in the mix anyway," Gabriel said easily. "But we don't need to make this any more than it is. I get you cleaned up, I help you keep Luci at bay and you owe me nothing. OK?"

Sam just stared at him, his mouth slightly parted.

"Sam?"

"OK," he said breathily. "OK. But not here."

Gabriel looked around the rundown house and grinned. "Yeah. We can do better than this."

"What about Cas?" Sam asked. "Don't you need to be here to keep an eye on him?"

"He's fine. Dean can deal with any issues that arise," Gabriel said firmly. He grabbed Sam's arm and took off.

* * *

Simmons poked her head around the door and gave a sigh of relief when she saw Crowley was alone and fully dressed.

"Come in," Crowley said. His face was pensive and she frowned.

"Sir, I'm sorry I disturbed you… earlier."

"It's fine," Crowley said. "It was an unexpected visit, otherwise I would have locked the door."

"So, you asked me to investigate the reports of fallen angels gathered in San Francisco," she said.

"Yes," Crowley replied. "What did you find?"

"There are six of them, they're living together in an apartment. Nice place. Good neighborhood. Pricey." She handed him a slip of paper with the address.

"Where do six angels get the money to afford these kind of digs?" Crowley asked her.

"I don't know," Simmons admitted.

"So what are they up to?"

"Nothing, as far as I can tell. They're having a lot of sex. Drinking, drugs. Pretty much anything they aren't supposed to do." Simmons grinned. "They're having a good time."

"That's it?" Crowley said. "No contact with Lucifer?"

"None," Simmons said firmly. "If anything, I'd say they were trying their best to look like humans."

"All right, let's do some outreach," Crowley said. "Who's available?"

"I am," Simmons said with a smile. "Or there's Dorian."

"I can see you really want to do this," Crowley said with an indulgent look. "Do it. Take Dorian with you, decadence is his speciality." Simmons squealed with delight and before Crowley could stop her, threw her arms around him in a hug.

"Uh, Simmons?"

She disengaged and flushed. "Sorry. But watching them party, it was hard not to invite myself to join in."

Crowley laughed. "Go and have fun. And bring me some allies."

"What are you planning, anyway?" Simmons asked.

Crowley's face fell. "Something stupid," he said. Simmons stared at him. "Never mind. I do what has to be done. You know that."

She nodded at him and withdrew. He pulled the feather from his pocket and twirled it in his fingers. He was playing a very dangerous game here. But what choice did he have?

* * *

Sam staggered from the disorientation and Gabriel steadied him. They were in a condo, fancy and richly if simply decorated. A large brown leather couch faced huge windows looking out over the Golden Gate Bridge, and the sky was golden pink as the sun slowly set.

"Wow," Sam said.

"It's a place to stay," Gabriel said offhandedly.

Sam turned around and looked at him. Gabriel's amber eyes caught the sunlight and he could see golden glints that made his breathing hitch. Gabriel offered him his hand and Sam took it, shivering at the sparking sensations along his nerves.

"Come see the bedroom," Gabriel said. Sam let himself be pulled into another large room, with chocolate brown walls and a vast bed. When they reached the foot of it Sam resisted suddenly and Gabriel looked at him.

"I…"

"Let's have a drink instead," Gabriel said, dragging him towards the kitchen. It was gray distressed wood, galley style and just like the bedroom, had an incredible view. Gabriel pulled an expensive bottle of Scotch and two crystal glasses out of a cabinet. He poured out generous measures and handed one to Sam.

"You could have just snapped this up," Sam pointed out.

"Of course," Gabriel said. "But you were freaking out, so I thought this was better. Come on." He headed back into the lounge and threw himself onto the couch. Somehow he managed not to spill his drink. As that thought passed through Sam's mind, Gabriel tilted his head in a way that reminded him of Cas. A cold feeling settled in Sam's stomach. What the Hell was he doing? This was beyond insane.

"I'm obviously not doing this right," Gabriel said. "Help me out, Sam. How do I get you to relax?"

"Did you just ask me to help you seduce me?" Sam said incredulously. Gabriel threw back his head and laughed, it was the most glorious, joyous sound Sam had ever heard.

"You don't make it easy, Sammy," he said. He patted the couch next to him. "Come sit down. Don't hover in the doorway like an unwanted guest."

Sam eyed him for a moment and then complied. He sat down, not too close and instead of looking at Gabriel, stared past him to the bridge, which was lit with rows of lights. When he looked down, Gabriel was gazing up at him, his mouth open and his eyes bright. It was easy, so easy to dip his head and gently taste those offered lips. Gabriel let out a soft sigh and parted beneath his mouth, his tongue gently brushing against Sam's. Warm desire, slow and lazy, curled within him. There was no need to rush. No need to do anything but enjoy this slow, sensuous dance.

Gabriel tugged him closer and he let him do it, pressing the archangel backwards against the plush cushions and deepening the kiss. Gabriel's fingers tangled in his hair and he slid his hands up his back, under his shirt. He raised his head and Gabriel smiled at him.

"We have all the time in the world, Sam. You're in control here."

"How is this going to work?" Sam said, arousal beating a steady insistent rhythm within him.

Gabriel stared at him in consternation. "You have done this before?"

"No. I mean, yes. Sorry," Sam stuttered. "I meant, the demon blood addiction. How does any of this help?"

"Oh, that," Gabriel said. He looked a little uncertain.

"Gabriel," Sam said, sitting back. "You swore to me you could do this."

"I can," Gabriel said defensively. "I just don't know if you're going to like it."

"I'll deal," Sam said firmly. "Anything has to be better than this."

"OK," Gabriel said. "Have a drink first." Sam took a large swallow of Scotch. "I'm going to feed you some of my blood instead."

Sam scrambled backwards, his eyes wild. "What? No!"

"Sammy," Gabriel said patiently. "It's OK."

"No," Sam said desperately, shaking his head. 'It's not."

"You don't trust me," Gabriel said. "I get it. But I promise you, Sam. This isn't a trick."

"It's not that," Sam said, his voice breaking. "I just don't want to swap one addiction for another."

"Ah," Gabriel said. "Well, yes. It's a risk."

"I need to think about this," Sam said.

Gabriel held out his hand. "Sure. But for now, we can still enjoy each other's company." Sam took the archangel's proffered hand and sat next to him on the couch again. "I can help you resist Luci's torments." Sam nodded but didn't move. Gabriel brushed a few strands of Sam's hair away from his face and Sam closed his eyes at the sensation. Gabriel kept going, carding his hand through Sam's hair and then cupping his jaw. He leaned forwards and kissed Sam softly. Sam's eyes flew open and he backed off. The kid was nervy and easily startled. This was going to be a long, slow process. He ignored the happy feeling that gave him deep inside. This was no time to lose his head.

"I'll tell you what," he said. "Why don't we get something to eat, and settle down, watch a movie?"

"That sounds… good," Sam admitted. "But are you sure that's what you want? I mean, you're an archangel, you could be doing anything right now."

Gabriel pressed one finger to Sam's lips. "Hush. I'm exactly where I want to be."

* * *

Cas blinked once, twice. He couldn't see. Panic clawed at his throat, had he been blinded? He struggled against strange bindings that seemed to twist tighter the more he struggled.

"Hey, hey, Cas," a familiar voice said. The room flooded with light and Dean appeared in his vision. "Oh, wow. You're really tangled up."

"Help me!" Cas pleaded.

"It's OK, you're fine. Just stay still and let me figure this out." Dean puzzled over how the angel had managed to get wrapped so tightly in the blankets. "Ah, OK. Just lift your arm a little, yeah like that." He tugged, twisted and turned Cas around and finally managed to free him. "All right?"

"Thank you," Cas said. "I thought I was blind. And trapped."

"Blind?" Dean said in confusion. "Why didn't you turn a light on?"

"I used to be able to see in the dark," Cas snapped.

Dean retreated. "OK, sorry man. I can see how that would be a shock." He stood up. "I'll leave you to sleep."

"No!" Cas exclaimed. Dean looked at him in surprise. "Please," the angel begged. "Stay."

"OK," Dean said. Cas shifted his legs so that he could sit down. "What's going on, Cas?"

"I've fallen," Cas said miserably. "I'm mortal now. My Grace… is gone." His chest heaved and Dean slung an arm over his shoulders.

"God, Cas, I'm sorry. I'm not trying to be a jackass. What can I do?"

"Nothing," Cas told him. "It's done." He quivered and Dean pulled him closer, tucking the angel into his body. Warm moisture pooled on his shirt and he sighed, letting Cas sob against him. Bobby appeared on the stairs, took one look at Dean and his weeping angel and after a warning glance, went back to bed.

The storm of Cas's distress passed after a while and they stayed there, companionably curled up on the couch. Dean ran his fingers through Cas's hair, secretly enjoying the warmth and the closeness and hating himself for it. Cas's breathing slowed and he slipped into sleep. Dean shifted carefully, rearranging their bodies so that he'd be more comfortable and then let himself drift off.

* * *

Cas found himself drifting, half awake and half asleep. It was a remarkably pleasant feeling. He was partially lying on top of Dean he realized and somewhere deep in his brain, he thought perhaps that wasn't a good thing but he couldn't remember why. It felt so good, cuddled up like this. He shifted slightly and Dean's arm tightened around him reflexively.

"Dean," he said softly.

"Cas?" Dean said, a thread of tension in his voice. "Do you want me to move?"

"No," Cas said, sighing. He raised his head and looked at Dean properly for the first time through mortal eyes. Tears shimmered in his vision once more. He was so used to seeing the brightness of Dean's soul, the pain of losing that sight was worse than he could possibly imagined. He realized then he could no longer feel the thrum of the connection between them, forged when he'd raised the hunter from perdition. His ability to read Dean's surface thoughts and use them to help decipher the hunter's complex emotional states was also gone. He wanted to scream at the hollow feeling inside. He stared at Dean, eyes wide and absorbed every detail he could see. The dusting of stubble on his cheeks, a crease where Dean's cheek had been pressed into the couch, the lashes that swept over incredible green eyes.

Dean watched the angel as his gaze flickered over his face. His expression was unreadable, that at least had not changed with his newly acquired mortality. His throat tightened. Mortality. Cas was going to die. He wasn't prepared for Cas to lunge at him suddenly, claiming his mouth and sweeping his tongue inside like he needed Dean to live. Every nerve in his body came startling to attention and he gasped in sudden, overwhelming need.

Cas thrilled at the sensations that burst through him. Kissing Dean like this, with a mortal body, was so different to when he'd had his Grace. His senses were duller, and yet his body seemed more responsive at the same time. He wanted more, more of this, he wanted to drown himself in Dean and never return. That thought was like a bucket of cold water and he began to retreat. A strange feeling in the back of his mind tickled at him, but he ignored it. The feeling got stronger, more urgent and he shoved at it angrily. It shoved back and Cas suddenly found himself pushed aside. He watched in horror as Jimmy Novak regained control and thrust himself away from Dean.

Cas suddenly scrambled away from him with a low, desperate cry.

"Hey," Dean said. "It's OK, Cas. I'm sorry."

"What the fuck happened, Dean?"

Dean blinked. That wasn't Cas. "Jimmy?"

"Yes. Now answer the question."

"I uh… Cas's lost his Grace. He's mortal now. Like you I guess."

"And we're sharing one body. Fantastic," Jimmy said unhappily.

"Shit, Jimmy, I had no idea you were still in there." Dean said roughly.

"What, you mean after Raphael exploded us? I remember that." Jimmy said icily. "I remember every sensation perfectly."

"Well, I figured when Cas got resurrected, you went off to Heaven," Dean defended.

"You thought wrong. I've had to watch everything you two have done. You promised me you'd respect my feelings on this." Jimmy continued.

"Hey, don't make this out to be more than it was," Dean growled. "We kissed a few times. That's it."

"No," Jimmy said firmly. "That is not it. I have to experience Castiel's arousal. His desire for you. His all-consuming obsession with you and his desperate struggles to resist. His shameful, secret moments when the need and the repressed lust get too much and he goes and jacks off, thinking about you. I had to teach him how to do that, otherwise we would both have gone insane."

"He what!" Dean yelped.

"So don't tell me how to feel about this," Jimmy snarled. "I wish I _had_ gone to Heaven. Because recently I've been in Hell."

Dean looked down at the floor. "God, Jimmy. I'm sorry."

"Good," Jimmy said. "Now, stop pussy-footing around and fix it."

Dean's head came up and he stared at Jimmy, utterly baffled. "Fix it? How?"

Jimmy groaned in frustration and grabbed him by the lapels. "It's too late for me now. I'm tied up in this just as much as Castiel is. His desires are mine, and mine are his. So stop dicking around and take us to bed already."

Dean gaped at him. "No," he said in revulsion.

"Why not?" Jimmy demanded. "What's different from a few minutes ago?"

"I… I can't, Jimmy. Not with you here. I'm sorry, I just can't."

"God help me, I will kill you," Jimmy said. "You want Castiel back in the driver's seat, just say so. But for the love of all that is holy, don't let him back out of this. It's needs to happen, now." He blinked and Dean watched as Cas regained control of his vessel.

"Dean," Cas said. "I'm sorry."

"Jimmy's pissed," Dean commented.

"Yes," Cas agreed. "What do we do now?"

"Well, you heard him," Dean said. "What do you want to do?"

Cas regarded him for a moment. "Well, I would say we have our orders," he said shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. "We should follow them?"

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "I mean, it would be rude not to."

* * *

"Nithael, you stand before this committee because of accusations that have come to light. Namely, we have denunciations from two other angels in your division." Zachariah said to the tall, stocky angel with dark skin and amber eyes.

"Denunciations," Nithael spat. "I refuse to recognize the legitimacy of this committee."

"Then we'll add sedition to the list, shall we?" Bartholomew said. "That does increase the severity of the crimes you are accused of."

"What crimes?" Nithael responded. "What am I being charged with here?"

"Not charged," Zachariah corrected with a chilly smile. "Investigated."

"Semantics," the large angel snarled. "Tell me what my comrades in arms have been saying about me."

"Very well. Namely, that you have actively discussed doubts and concerns about the coming war with Lucifer and that you have expressed distrust in the leadership of Heaven."

"I'm a soldier, not a robot," Nithael asserted. "I've been given orders that make no sense."

"I see," Zachariah said. "Forgive me, were you given a promotion I was unaware of?"

"What? No."

"Then your job is to _follow orders!_ That's it. No questioning, no doubting and certainly no expressing negative thoughts about our glorious general." Zachariah wished he didn't sound like such a hypocrite.

"You're not serious," Nithael said incredulously. "I'm as loyal a soldier as any in Heaven. This is like thought crime."

"Thought crime," Zachariah repeated reflectively. "Yes, I suppose that would be an accurate term. Michael has charged me with improving morale and obedience in the ranks by seeking out those who are not truly committed to the cause. Spreading doubt and criticizing your orders undermines Michael's authority. Since I assume this was not your intention, just admit you're confused and I can have you assigned for… re-education."  
"To Naomi's house of horrors, you mean? No thanks." Nithael got up from his chair and turned to leave the room.

"Where do you think you're going?" Bartholomew barked.

"Back to the division war room. I have a battle to plan," Nithael said icily.

"No, Nithael. I'm sorry but you have failed to properly account for yourself or accept the offered solution to your seditious talk. So, I'm afraid you are to be incarcerated until such time as Naomi can fit you in for reprogramming." Zachariah told him, his mouth dry.

"What! You can't do that!" Nithael exclaimed. "I haven't done anything wrong!"

"On the contrary," Bartholomew said. "Michael invested this committee with considerable latitude. If you have a problem with it, perhaps you should take it up with him."

"Maybe I will," Nithael said. He struggled briefly against the two guard angels who came to take him to jail. "I can't believe he approves of this."


	8. Chapter 8

Sam was awoken by voices. He looked around to find himself in Gabriel's enormous bed in the archangel's San Francisco condo, dressed in his t-shirt and shorts. He listened intently, one of the voices was Gabriel's and the other man's was unfamiliar. He couldn't make out what they were saying but Gabriel did not sound happy.

He rolled out of bed, pulled on his jeans and padded out into the living room.

"Well, hello there," a British voice said in a flirtatious tone.

"Uh, hi," Sam said, squinting at the dark haired man who was eyeing him up and down appreciatively.

"Hands off," Gabriel said irritably.

"I never knew you had such good taste, Loki," the stranger said. He held his hand out to Sam. "The name's Crowley."

Sam shook it and gasped as Crowley's eyes flashed red for a moment. "You're a crossroads demon!"

"Not just any punk-ass crossroads demon," Crowley said modestly, buffing his nails on his suit. "King of the Crossroads."

"You took over after Lilith… died?" Sam managed, his heart beginning to race.

"Yep. Wasn't easy, let me tell you. But that's demons for you." He flashed Sam a grin. Sam could hear the blood pumping through the demon's veins.

Crowley canted an eyebrow at him. "Still fighting with addiction, I see. Don't even think about it, I'm a little more than you can handle, boy. Unless you're planning to take me to bed." Gabriel made a growling sound and Crowley held up his hands. "Can't blame a guy for trying, just look at him."

"So, uh, Gabriel, why is there a demon here?" Sam said, pointedly turning and ignoring Crowley.

Crowley turned slowly to look at Gabriel in astonishment. "Gabriel? Really?" He blinked rapidly. "Well I'll be a monkey's uncle."

"He's kind of an old friend," Gabriel said. "He didn't know I was Gabriel until just now however." He didn't look too unhappy about Sam's inadvertent revelation but Sam resolved to apologize anyway.

"Right, sorry." Sam said. "That really doesn't answer the question though."

Crowley produced the Colt with a flourish and laid it on the table with a heavy metallic sound. "It's about this," he declared.

"The Colt!" Sam yelped.

"So?" Gabriel said lazily. "It's no use to us."

"What do you mean?" Sam demanded. "We could use it to kill Lucifer!"

"Ah, Sammy. I'm afraid not," Gabriel told him. "There are five things in the world that can't be killed by this gun. Luci's one of them."

"Because he's an archangel?" Crowley asked curiously, although he looked disappointed for some reason.

"Because he's the Lord of Hell." Gabriel explained impatiently. "It's not just an empty title. Real power flows from mastery of Hell and its minions."

"Huh," Crowley said, his eyes lighting up. "How interesting."

"So why did you come here with this thing anyway?" Sam said, his eyes narrowing.

"I was hoping you muppets might be able to kill Lucifer with it," Crowley said. "Seems like I was wrong."

"And why would you want us to do that?" Sam said, folding his arms and regarding the demon suspiciously. The sound of Crowley's heartbeat was like a bass drum in his skull.

Crowley shrugged nonchalantly. "Lucifer hates demons, as much as he hates humans. Maybe even more. If he beats Michael and takes over Creation, we'll all be wiped out. I like existing, thanks all the same."

"So you were going to do a deal with us, to give us the Colt so we could kill the Devil with it? Don't you think we've had enough demon deals in our lives?" Sam's head was swimming. They needed to get this Crowley asshole out of here.

"Nah," Crowley said. "This was gonna be a freebie. I figured we both got something we wanted out of it, so why not call it even?"

"Well, it's off the table," Sam said wearily. "It's useless."

"Not entirely," Crowley said, casting a wary look at Gabriel. "We can't kill Lucifer with it, more's the pity. But we could still kill… another archangel."

Gabriel jumped to his feet, the air crackling with power. Crowley cringed back in terror and made a quelling gesture with his hands.

"I didn't mean you, Loki… uh Gabriel my old chum," he said quickly. "I meant one of your other brothers."

"Really?" Gabriel said icily, managing to tower over Crowley despite his diminutive size.

"Really. If we want to short-circuit the Apocalypse, taking out Lucifer was the obvious choice. But surely taking out… the opponent would work just as well?"

"You're insane," Gabriel thundered. "Why would taking out my brother help in the slightest?"

"Hold on a second," Sam interjected. "Are you really saying what I think you're saying? Why won't you say M-" Gabriel clapped a hand over his mouth and shoved him up against the wall. Sam struggled angrily against the archangel's hold, but it was futile.

"Don't say his name!" Gabriel hissed. "He hears it when you say his name."

Sam stared at him for a moment and then nodded. Gabriel released him and stepped away. He returned his glare to Crowley.

"Killing him would weaken Heaven in their fight against Luci. Why would you want to do that?"

"Things in Heaven aren't exactly a bed of roses right now," Crowley said. He gave off the impression he knew something Gabriel didn't know and was enjoying it.

"Of course not," Gabriel snapped. "Dad's AWOL and we're on the brink of war!"

"All true," Crowley agreed. "Which makes it a bad time for a purge, don't you think?"

"A purge?" Sam said. "What do you mean?"

"It might be better if you hear it from the horse's mouth," Crowley said cryptically. "Let me go find my friend and let him tell the tale."

* * *

They stumbled into the bedroom, Dean tugging impatiently at Cas's clothes. The fallen angel was breathing hard and seemed to be torn between lust and terror. Dean figured he just needed to keep him distracted. He pulled Cas in for a kiss, keeping it light and teasing at first until the ex-angel groaned and deepened the kiss himself. Dean allowed their tongues to tangle for a moment and then moved his attentions along Cas's jaw and down his neck. One particular spot caused him to arch under Dean's ministrations with a bitten-off gasp.

Dean finally tugged off the trenchcoat, which Cas had apparently been sleeping in. He smiled to himself and kept going, peeling clothes off the angel like he was a well-wrapped gift. Cas, for his part mostly just clutched at Dean's shirt and made soft, moaning sounds that went straight to Dean's groin.

The pale expanse of Cas's chest made Dean pause for a moment in wonder. And then he dipped his head to one nipple and thrilled to the ripple of sensation that went through his body.

"Dean!" Cas yelped.

Dean placed one gentle finger against his lips. "Let's not wake Bobby, OK?" Cas nodded, unable to speak. Dean returned to his chest, nipping and licking at the skin and making an almost inaudible humming sound that vibrated against him. Then he began to move lower and Cas tensed.

"It's OK, Cas," Dean said. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to do."

"I do want this," Cas told him. "I just don't… know what to expect."

"Just let me take the lead, OK. Nice and easy. Anytime you wanna stop, just say the word," Dean reassured him.

Cas shivered and nodded. "OK. OK. I can do that. Follow your lead."

Dean sat back and pulled his shirt over his head and was gratified by the way Cas's eyes widened at the sight. He beckoned the angel to him and Cas licked tentatively at his nipple, then latched on more firmly. Dean almost toppled off the bed and he grabbed onto Cas's shoulders.

"God, Cas," he murmured. "You feel incredible."

"I like this," Cas replied indistinctly. "I like the taste of you."

"You're going to be the death of me," Dean told him. He gently pushed Cas away and began to work on the fastening of his pants. Cas's hips twitched in response, and the hunter made quick work of divesting the angel of his remaining clothing. Then he stood up and shucked his own jeans before admiring the gift laid out before him.

"Beautiful," he declared and knelt between Cas's legs, licking a wet, wicked line up his thigh. Cas's hips bucked and he let out a groan. And then he took Cas into his mouth and all the air rushed out of the angel's lungs at once. This was exquisite, and exquisite torture. Cas was perfection, silky skin and soft, desperate sounds, and Dean wasn't sure how long he could keep this up. Cas obviously felt similarly, as he began to tug at Dean's hair.

"Too soon," he said when Dean looked up. "Not yet."

Dean nodded and released him, crawling up Cas's body and claiming his mouth once more. Of course, that movement caused such delicious friction he had to pause for a moment to catch his breath. And then, to his utter astonishment, Cas slid his hand between their bodies and grasped them both both firmly in one hand. The feeling of skin on skin, their bodies falling into a natural rhythm, drew gasps and groans from both their throats.

"Love you, Cas," Dean said desperately as his climax approached. "Love you."

"Dean," Cas cried out like it was a prayer. "Dean!"

* * *

"We can't go on like this much longer," Hael said, reading from a clipboard. "We're dangerously over capacity in the prison and Naomi says her facility can't keep up with the number of angels we're sending each day."

"Then we need another solution," Bartholomew opined. "We've already discussed this, but apparently some of you are too squeamish to face the truth."

"No," Balthazar said. "Not squeamish. Rational. We're about to embark on the biggest war since the Fall, we can't afford to throw away good warriors to your little purity drive."

"Balthazar!" Zachariah snapped. "Bartholomew makes a good point. We do need a change in strategy."

"All right," Balthazar said. "How about exile for the worst offenders? Strip them of their Grace, send them to earth. They work as our agents in the field and if they perform well they can be reinstated." He had the strange sensation Zachariah wanted to embrace him in that moment, the gratitude in the senior angel's eyes was so intense.

"An excellent suggestion," he declared delightedly. "It retains the element of punishment, but without permanently decimating the ranks."

"And what if they use their exile to promote the agenda of the Adversary?" Bartholomew snarled. "If they could be trusted as field agents, they wouldn't be imprisoned in the first place."

"We don't have to give them the most important jobs," Balthazar told him. "Minor reconnaissance, maybe some local outreach with preachers and churches."

"I am fundamentally opposed to such a reckless plan," Bartholomew insisted.

"I fail to see how it is less reckless than execution," Hael said bitterly. "These are our brothers and sisters, Bartholomew."

"They were," Bartholomew said. "Now they are just traitors."

Zachariah thumped on his desk. "Please! Let's not descend into petty arguing. Bartholomew, the chair recognizes your position but feels the crisis is not so serious as to require the ultimate sanction." He was interrupted by the door to his office banging open.

"They're breaking out!" Haniel said, bursting into the room.

Zachariah stared at him. "You're not serious. Heaven's prison is impenetrable. Nobody can break in or out."

Haniel shook his head. "No angel, true. Which is why several incarcerated angels have ripped out their Grace and fallen."

"Ejected from Heaven, and therefore Heaven's prison." Bartholomew said, looking oddly satisfied. "Now, Zachariah, do you see why these angels are so dangerous? Why exile not only won't work, but it's what they want!"

A bell began to ring in Zachariah's head. Michael wanted to see him. Explaining this latest debacle was not going to be fun. "Come on, Bartholomew, Balthazar. Michael wants to see us." At least he could spread the pain around a bit.

* * *

As soon as Crowley had gone, Sam fell on Gabriel like a starving animal. He crushed the archangel's mouth beneath his, need and desire throbbing in his veins. Gabriel gasped in surprise.

"Sammy!" he exclaimed delightedly.

"Let's do it," Sam growled.

"You don't need to ask twice," Gabriel told him.

"No, not sex," Sam said desperately. "OK, yes, that too. But I meant the other thing. The blood."

"Are you sure?" Gabriel said weakly as Sam raked his hands down the archangel's back.

"No," Sam bit out. "But I can't hold out any longer. It's either this, or chase Crowley down the hall."

Gabriel stiffened. "Sam, I…"

"Please, Gabriel," Sam begged. "I don't want him. I want you." Gabriel relaxed and pulled at Sam's hair, tilting his head back.

"Well, when you put it like that," he said. He produced a small, golden knife with a click of his fingers and placed it in Sam's hand. Sam gazed at it, his hands shaking and then carefully sliced into the soft skin at the base of Gabriel's neck. Blood pooled and his mouth watered. He hesitated.

"It's OK, Sammy," Gabriel said, curling one hand behind his head and gently tugging him forward. "I swear, it'll be OK."

Sam lapped cautiously at Gabriel's blood and as the first taste hit his tongue, his eyes almost rolled back in his head. "Oh, God," he groaned and then wrapped his arms around Gabriel's compact body and sucked at the wound with gusto. Demon blood had been nothing like this. Demon blood was thick and heavy with their corruption, even if the corresponding flood of power had felt pretty good. By contrast, Gabriel's blood was like sunlight and lightning and power surged through him like a freight train. Gabriel was pulling him away, saying something but Sam couldn't understand him. The roaring in his ears was too much, and everything was suddenly too bright, too loud, too much of everything. He screamed and distantly was aware of the sound of breaking glass and loud thumping noises.

When he opened his eyes, he was not really prepared for the sight. All the large picture windows that overlooked the bay had blown out. Several items of furniture had fallen, the table had flipped over onto its top. Sam blinked several times, trying to clear his vision which seemed overly sharp and still too bright.

"What… happened?" he rasped.

"Well, you uh, might have had a mild reaction to my blood," Gabriel said with wry understatement. Sam turned to look at him and almost cried out in shock. He could see Gabriel's familiar face, but overlaid on that was something else, something almost indescribable. Golden and beautiful and utterly inhuman, he realized he was seeing Gabriel's True Form.

"So this is the real me, I guess," Gabriel said. His voice was light but it was laced with strain. Sam raised quivering fingers to his face, running them over Gabriel's skin and gasping at the little sparks of sensation as he truly perceived the archangel within. Gabriel was watching him uncertainly, sitting unnaturally still.

"You're glorious," Sam said thickly. "Stunning."

Gabriel flashed him a grin and Sam pulled the archangel towards him. He placed a soft, sensuous kiss on Gabriel's mouth and groaned as the archangel's mouth parted beneath his. There was a dizzying sensation for a moment as Gabriel transported them to the bedroom. He'd also managed to strip them both naked in the process.

"Somebody's eager," Sam said gruffly, tilting his head back to allow Gabriel access to his neck.

"Damn right," Gabriel retorted. "I've wanted to get you into this position for years. And now you've fed on me it's even worse." He bit down hard on Sam's collarbone, extracting a yelp from the hunter.

"Are you wanting some of mine in return?" Sam gasped out.

Gabriel went utterly still, and when he didn't say anything after a moment, Sam began to wriggle in discomfort. Had he upset the archangel somehow?

"Gabriel? Did I say something wrong? I'm sorry if I did. Gabriel? Please."

"No, Sam," Gabriel said in a low voice. "No, you didn't say anything wrong. Just… unexpected. And you don't know what it means either."

"I guess not," Sam said in confusion. "I'll take it back, if you want."

"No!" Gabriel said, his head coming up and he gazed into Sam's eyes. "It's OK. Let me explain."

"OK," Sam said nervously.

"By taking my blood, you accepted a gift from me. A powerful gift. It's up to you whether you use it or not, and if you only want to use my blood as a way of breaking your addiction, that's OK. But if I take your blood as well, that's something else entirely. It's an offering."

"I don't understand," Sam confessed.

"It's a bonding thing," Gabriel told him. "Like a marriage, I guess."

"Oh," Sam said, his mind reeling. "I uh. That wasn't…"

"Not what you meant, I know," Gabriel reassured him. "Don't worry about it." He thrust his hands into Sam's hair and kissed him, and Sam's concentration dissolved. The archangel seemed to be everywhere, licking, sucking, and placing butterfly kisses all over his skin. Sam writhed under the attention, his arousal building and he could feel Gabriel's corresponding desire poking him insistently in the stomach. Somehow, he'd ended up on his back with Gabriel straddling his hips. The archangel splayed his hands on Sam's chest and slid them slowly down his body.

"Oh, my Sammy," Gabriel breathed. "What a work of art you are."

"I-" Sam opened his mouth to speak but then Gabriel shifted and slid backwards and impaled himself on Sam, and the rest of his breath whooshed out of him.

"Oh, God," Sam groaned.

"Not a great time to bring up family," Gabriel panted.

"Well then, move!" Sam begged. "Please, I can't-"

Gabriel did move then, setting a slow, agonizing pace. Sam thought he might actually lose his mind. He gripped the archangel's hips and held on for dear life. Gabriel was hot and tight and he just felt so incredible, Sam wondered if he'd ever have anything as good ever again. But he couldn't worry about it now, Gabriel was picking up speed and what little rational thought he had fled. All he could concentrate on now was the steady build towards release. He moved one hand to grasp Gabriel's arousal and the archangel's head went back with a shout. Sam's hips snapped upwards as Gabriel rode him hard and then his vision whited out as pleasure swept through him.

* * *

Michael stood stiffly as Zachariah droned on through his dreary report. Balthazar thought privately that Zachariah was doing it deliberately and the way Bartholomew shifted restlessly beside him was making him uncomfortable. Michael gave him a sharp glance and he bit his tongue. He really needed to keep a tighter rein on his thoughts.

"So," Michael said, steepling his fingers. "You've found considerable wells of treachery, dishonesty and sedition, have acted to sequester the errant angels until they can be dealt with and have put some righteous fear into the ranks. You've done well, Zachariah."

"Thank you, sir. But, there's the problem of what to do with all the angels who need 'dealt with'," Zachariah said. "We never anticipated such large numbers of prisoners, and Heaven's current prison can't cope."

"And now I hear angels are ripping out their Grace to escape. Which is why you've brought two separate proposals to me, on how to proceed?" Michael said smoothly. Zachariah looked disturbed. Clearly he hadn't anticipated that Michael would know what was going on.

"Uh, yes," he said faltering. "I uh... Balthazar, report."

Balthazar stepped up smartly, outlining the exile plan in as much detail as he could muster, given that he'd only come up with it last night.

"Exile to earth," Michael said thoughtfully. "But with an option to return _if_ they prove trustworthy. It's a good plan. Solid. Appears just and even-handed. Very well, what's the alternative?"

"Summary execution," Bartholomew said bluntly. "Only for the worst offenders, of course."

"Execution," Michael said thoughtfully. He regarded Bartholomew sternly and Balthazar had to suppress a surge of hope. Bartholomew had finally overstepped his mark and now Michael was going to show him that this was not how Heaven did business.

"I know it sounds extreme," Bartholomew defended. "And of course, we're only considering it because the depths of dissent in the Host had roots far deeper than anyone had expected. But it is your decision, of course."

"Who is currently in the prison now?" Michael asked. Zachariah produced the list and handed it to him. Michael read it slowly, his eyebrows raising from time to time. Finally he looked up.

"I see Castiel is not on this list," he said. The three angels all gaped at him.

"Castiel has fallen," Zachariah said. "Treacherous as he is, he's no longer a threat."

"I disagree," Michael said. "I want him on the list. He's the worst of the lot and we cannot make it seem like we allow such blatant flaunting of the rules!"

"The list?" Zachariah said faintly. "You want us to capture him and imprison him? We have no idea where he is."

"No," Michael said solemnly. "He is to be executed. On sight."

Zachariah took a deep breath and Balthazar resisted the urge to reach out and support himself against a wall. Was he hearing this correctly? Not only did Michael want them to go out and track down Castiel like it was a personal vendetta, but Michael had said _list._

Michael's head snapped around like a striking snake. "Yes," he said deliberately. "I said list."

Bartholomew smirked at him in a way Balthazar felt was entirely inappropriate. "Balthazar, I appreciate what you were trying to do with your proposal. It was just and merciful, and in other, more peaceful times, a perfect solution. But we are at war. We cannot afford to be so charitable when Creation itself hangs in the balance."

"I'll put together the list," Zachariah said, sounding utterly defeated.

"No!" Balthazar exclaimed. "Please, don't do this! This is madness!"

"Balthazar, you are treading dangerously close to disobedience yourself," Michael warned. "I've given you your orders. Now, go."


	9. Chapter 9

Sam made a soft, snuffling sound as he slept and Gabriel found himself staring at the kid, watching him. He felt rather odd, a slight dizziness he could attribute to the blood loss he supposed but there was also a strange sensation he struggled to put into words. All he knew was, he felt better when there was some skin to skin contact between him and Sam. He stroked his fingers gently down the hunters back and smiled to himself as Sam's skin goosepimpled under his ministrations. Lucifer's vessel, he thought. How was this fair, that he was… what? Obsessed with him? Gabriel didn't know any more. He'd thought he could work it out of his system by bedding the kid a few times, but if anything the feeling had only become more intense. Of course, their little affair was hardly over yet, but even that thought was enough to cause Gabriel's heart to contract painfully. He knew he couldn't keep Sam, that this could only ever be a short-lived thing so why did he feel like his world was ending?

Sam turned over and blinked open sleepy eyes and when he saw Gabriel, his mouth curved into a warm, lazy grin.

"Hey," he said, his voice blurred by sleep. Gabriel wanted to cry, and he didn't even know why.

"You ready to go round up our brothers?" the archangel forced himself to say.

Sam rubbed a hand over his face and nodded. "Yeah," he agreed. "Just gimme a couple minutes to wake up." Gabriel leaned over and kissed him and Sam groaned. "Don't. Or I'll just pull you back into bed with me."

"And that's a problem why?" Gabriel grinned.

Sam blinked owlishly at him. "Didn't you want to talk to Cas and Dean?"

Throwing caution to the wind, Gabriel pushed the covers aside and took one of Sam's nipples into his mouth, thrilling to the way it made his whole body sing as Sam arched beneath him. "It can wait," he said indistinctly.

* * *

Gabriel looked fondly at his brother and Dean Winchester curled up in bed together. It almost seemed a shame to disturb them. Sam peered over his shoulder, agog.

"Oh. My. God," he hissed. "Gabriel… did they… actually no, forget it. I don't wanna know." Gabriel grinned at him and then poked Castiel in the leg.

"Hey! Rise and shine, brother mine. Shit's going down and time's a'wastin'!"

"What are you talking about?" Castiel grumbled. Dean opened one eye, and then two as shock set in.

"Sam! Uh. Hi."

Sam really wanted to laugh. But if he did, Dean would get all pissed off and they needed him and Cas to get moving.

"Morning, Dean. You've got thirty minutes before we hit the road," he said.

"Where are we going?" Dean said fuzzily.

"San Francisco," Sam told him. "Something big is happening."

Dean scowled and threw back the covers, and then pulled them back just as quickly when he realized that he'd just given everyone an eyeful. "Uh, gimme some privacy here, OK?"

"OK," Sam said and walked away. Gabriel winked at Cas and then followed Sam.

By the time Dean got downstairs, Gabriel and Sam were deep in conversation with Bobby.

"And here he is, Sleeping Beauty himself," Bobby said. "I see you ignored my warning, boy."

Dean winced.

"What warning?" Cas said, appearing behind Dean.

"Nothing for you," the old man retorted. Cas frowned at him.

"All right," Sam interjected. "Let's go. Gabriel's going to transport us to his place in San Francisco. Bobby, are you sure you don't want to come?"

"I'm sure," Bobby grunted. "I've got a lot of plates spinning here."

"Fine," Dean said. "Let's go."

* * *

Simmons lounged decadently in the middle of the large bed, the bodies of the angels she'd partied with snoozing peacefully around her. Dorian, all pale skin and curly black hair and pretty blue eyes, smirked at her from his position near her feet.

"I _like_ this assignment," he said. She shook her head and placed a finger to her lips. He shrugged, unconcerned.

"Let's go get a drink," she suggested. "Let them sleep it all off."

Dorian nodded and slid gracefully off the end of the bed. He sauntered, nude, into the kitchen. Simmons followed him and leaned against the counter. He poked around in the fridge and produced a bottle of wine.

"Ugh," she said. "Haven't we got anything stronger?"

Dorian closed the fridge and opened a cabinet. "Hmm. Bourbon?"

"Works for me," she said. He pulled out two glasses and poured generous measures into each one.

"So what did you learn?" Simmons asked him. He gave her a wicked smile. "Pertinent to the mission, asshole."

"Not much," Dorian admitted. "Two of them were in prison, the others were about to be arrested that's for sure. Ripped out their Grace to escape."

Simmons eyebrows shot up in shock. "Ripped out their Grace? Fucking Hell, Dor."

"Quite," Dorian said. "Something major is going on upstairs. None of them would tell me why, just that it was some kind of mistake."

"The boss says they're carrying out a witch hunt."

"Ah, like the good old days of Salem," Dorian said wistfully. "Good times, Simmons."

"I wouldn't know," Simmons reminded him. "Long after my time."

"How long?" Dorian asked curiously.

She gave him a long look. "A very, long time. Let's just say that I am older than Crowley, and leave it there."

"Come on, darling," Dorian said. "You've got to give me more to go on than that."

"My father's name was Philip. He was a king and he was murdered. That's all you get." Simmons told him.

"Then Simmons isn't your real name, is it?"

"No more than yours is Dorian."

"Touché, darling." Dorian tipped his glass at her.

"Well, I found out a few interesting titbits," Simmons said, ignoring him. "Like who their sugar daddy is."

"I'm all ears," Dorian said. "Is it Loki, as Crowley thought?"

"No," Simmons said, sounding like the information still surprised her. "But I'll bet the name is just as familiar. It's Lugh."

"That old rascal?" Dorian laughed. "I should have known. Ah, I remember, dancing at Lughnasadh."

"What's that?" Simmons asked curiously.

"Old Irish festival," Dorian said. "Celebrated around Harvest time. Dancing, drinking, the odd sacrifice. And lots of fucking."

"Sounds fun," Simmons observed. "It was named after Lugh, then?"

"Supposedly," Dorian said. "So, why would Lugh want to sponsor the drunken revelries of six fallen angels in San Francisco."

"What if they're not the only ones?" Simmons suggested. "What if he's building an army of them?"

"To do what?" Dorian said derisively. "Without their Grace they're no more powerful than a human."

"A human with millennia of knowledge," Simmons pointed out. "Who knows what forbidden spells, magical artifacts and other powerful things they might know about?"

"Yikes, darling," Dorian said. "We need to get back to the boss man, stat."

* * *

Dean eyed the dark-haired demon on the couch in surprise.

"I forgot you didn't used to have a beard," he said.

Crowley gaped at him. "I was thinking of growing one," he said. "Do you think it would suit?" Cas glared at him and the demon grinned. "All right, Castiel, keep your hair on. Nobody's touching your girlfriend."

"OK, quick intro's," Gabriel said, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. "This is Crowley, King of the Crossroads. Crowley and I have sort of known each other for a couple of centuries, although until yesterday he knew me as Loki. Crowley, you already know Castiel it seems."

"We've met," Castiel said sourly.

"And this is Balthazar," Gabriel said as the tall, blond angel stepped out of the kitchen.

"I remember you," Dean said. "What have you done this time?"

Balthazar snarled at him. "Who the bloody hell are you?"

"Balthazar, Dean here is somewhat temporally displaced." Gabriel said, stepping in front of the irritated angel. Balthazar blinked in shock.

"He's a time traveller?"

"Not of his own volition, but yes." Gabriel said. "Now, like I say this is Dean Winchester and this is his brother Sam."

"Oh, the Vessels," Balthazar said dismissively. "Why are those muppets here?"

"Because I said so," Gabriel said in a hard voice. Balthazar backed down. "So, tell me what's going on. Crowley here implied something big was going down in Heaven. Something bad."

"Bad doesn't even begin to describe it," Balthazar said with a sigh. "I think our glorious leader is losing the plot."

"That doesn't sound like my brother," Gabriel said tightly.

"I don't know what else to call it," Balthazar said. "He's got Zach tearing his hair out, if you can believe that."

"Good," Dean said. "Smug-faced fucking asshole."

Balthazar raised an eyebrow at him. "That's not an uncommon opinion. Anyway, our leader has become increasingly paranoid recently. And then photographs appeared, all over Heaven, with an insulting note from Luci."

"How insulting?" Gabriel asked. "And what was the picture?"

Balthazar snorted out a laugh. "Take a look for yourself." He handed over the photo of Dean and Cas in the hospital corridor and the accompanying note.

"Prom dress!" Dean yelled. "I'm not anyone's fucking prom dress!" Cas placed a hand on his arm and he subsided.

"Did Lucifer do this?" the ex-angel asked.

"We don't know," Balthazar said. "If he'd entered Heaven himself, alarms would have gone off all over. So either he was able to circumvent the alarms with inside help or he had an inside angel plant the photos. Either way, it seemed there was a mole inside Heaven, working for the Adversary."

"I bet my brother didn't take this well," Gabriel observed.

"Not to put too fine a point on it, yes," Balthazar said. "He went bloody ballistic. Called Zach up and told him to set up this Unangelic Activities Committee."

"Ugh," Sam said. "What a creepy name."

"Quite," Balthazar said. "And then that bastard put me on the committee. Me!"

"Why do you think he did that?" Gabriel asked. "I mean, nobody doubts your loyalty but you've always been something of a… wild card."

Balthazar grinned at him and sat down on the couch next to Crowley. "I don't know. It could be a test, or maybe he wanted someone who wasn't going to just toe the party line. It doesn't matter. I'm not going back."

"You're defecting?" Sam said in surprise.

"I suppose that's what you'd call it," Balthazar said. "It's all down to Castiel here."

"I had nothing to do with it," Cas rumbled.

"Well, not directly maybe," Balthazar conceded. He stretched out an arm and tucked Crowley in against his side and looked down at him. "But let's say you were… an inspiration."

Sam and Dean's eyes were like saucers and Gabriel felt like they were getting off track.

"OK," he said, flicking a glance at Sam. "So this committee. It sounds suitably ominous and vaguely fascist. In other words, not exactly out of the ordinary for Heaven."

"Oh, I'm just getting started," Balthazar said. "First it was known troublemakers, and a few angels already known to be AWOL. Anna had already been imprisoned, but they moved her reprogramming date up." Cas shifted uncomfortably next to Dean. "Which is why I was surprised to be called up as a witch-hunter, rather than being accused of misdeeds. As Gabriel says, I've never been a been a stickler for the rules.

"Once the obvious targets had been rounded up, I figured we'd shut up shop. But if anything, our leader became even more convinced that we'd barely scratched the surface. And that's when he started encouraging denunciations."

"Denunciations," Sam repeated, sounding disturbed. "Have none of you learned _anything_ from human history?"

"Most angels consider humanity's mistakes a reflection of their specific design flaws," Balthazar told him. "Angels are supposed to be more logical and rational, not driven by emotions or personality defects." He held his hands up at the look on both Winchesters faces. "Don't shoot the messenger. I didn't say I agreed with them. I think we're just as capable of being venal and vindictive and generally unpleasant as humans."

"I think we can guess the rest," Sam said. "The denunciations spiraled out of control. The prison filled up and soon there were so many angels imprisoned that space became an issue. At the same time, the rest of the Heavenly Host became more and more restless and more and more paranoid. Denunciations continued to spike for the most trivial of reasons. And so somebody, maybe your leader, maybe someone else, suggested the only practical solution. Deportation or execution. Which was it, Balthazar?"

"Both," the angel said miserably. "I suggested exile, but only because sodding Bart wanted to summarily execute a portion of the accused. No trial, no chance to present a defence. Exile wasn't a good idea but at least my brothers and sisters would be alive. That there'd be a chance when the madness had passed to reinstate them."

"This is monstrous," Cas said quietly. "What was M- our most respected brother thinking?"

"Like I say, this whole Apocalypse shindig seems to have tipped him over the edge." Balthazar said.

"No," Cas said firmly. "He set those wheels in motion. Zach was his right hand man in manipulating events so that Lilith would break the 66 seals and Sam here would unleash Lucifer upon the earth. Something else is at work here."

"That's all I know," Balthazar said.

Gabriel was leaning against a wall, chewing on a candy bar. He shook his head. "I think you need to go back, Balthazar."

"No," Balthazar said. "No way. If Heaven wants to lose its collective mind, they can do so without me. I'm done. And you of all people are the last one to be telling me otherwise, Gabriel."

"I know," Gabriel said. "And I can't make you go back." A strange look passed over Balthazar's face. "OK, you're right, I can. But I won't. I'm asking, that's all." Balthazar stared at him, the silence stretching uncomfortably.

"That's a bloody tall order," Crowley snapped. "If he goes back, he could be next on the chopping block."

"It's all right, babe," Balthazar muttered. "He's right. I have to go back."

"I don't see why," Crowley sulked.

"Because we need to know who's on the list for execution," Balthazar said sadly. "And I'm the only one who can get that list."

* * *

Bobby hung up the phone marked 'FBI' and muttered to himself. "Idjits."

"You always did have a way with words," a vaguely familiar voice said behind him. He whirled around, his eyes widening at the sight of his old friend. But John Winchester was long dead, so whoever this was, couldn't possibly be him.

"No, I'm not John," the being agreed. "I just… borrow his visage from time to time."

"Why?" Bobby said gruffly. "What's the point?"

"It's not important," the creature wearing John's face said, waving his hand dismissively. "My name is Michael."

Bobby gaped at him, shock and horror warring for dominance inside him. "The _Archangel Michael?"_ he blurted out.

"Yes," Michael said. He stared at Bobby for a moment. "Where's Dean Winchester?"

Bobby straightened in alarm. "Uh, I dunno," he said, playing for time. "I mean, he was here. But I haven't seen him today."

Michael narrowed his eyes at him and then began looking around the room. "You're a very experienced hunter," he observed idly. "I'm sure you understand the consequences of defying me."

"Nobody's defying anyone," Bobby said stoutly. "I don't know where the kid is. Look, I know about the whole vessel deal, OK? And I know he ain't on board with it. Why can't you find someone else to be your warrior?"

"He was born to this role. It's his destiny," Michael explained patiently. "Any other vessel would be ...imperfect."

"Doesn't that strike you as kinda unfair?" Bobby replied, eying the archangel as he roamed the room, inspecting his books and trinkets.

"Fair?" Michael asked mildly. "Where did you get an idea like that?"

"You know," Bobby retorted. "Free will and all that jazz. Isn't that part of God's plan?"

Michael turned to him and folded his arms across his chest in a gesture so like John, Bobby's throat began to ache. "It's really very simple," he said firmly. "Sam _will_ say yes to Lucifer. Dean needs to stop acting like a child and face up to his responsibilities. He had his chance to stop the Apocalypse, and he blew it. This is a second chance for him to make things right."

"Well, I still don't know where he is," Bobby said, wondering if Michael might just smite him for the Hell of it.

"No, I can see that," Michael said. "But you can… pass the message along next time you see him. I will find him, he will do as he is told or the world will be destroyed. And I will make sure that Castiel is the first to die."

Bobby blinked in surprise. "Cas?" he said stupidly.

"Yes," Michael said, his lip curling with contempt. "My… brother. He has turned his back on Heaven, on his duty and… defiled himself. I am aware of what has been going on and I will not stand for it." He peered at Bobby for a moment. "You don't approve of it either, do you?" he said curiously.

"It ain't my business," Bobby declared. "I just thought humans and angels getting all tangled up was asking for trouble, that's all."

"Well, you are correct. Terrible things happened the last time angels… fraternized with humanity."

"Dean ain't gonna be giving birth to no nephilim, at least," Bobby defended.

"Perhaps not," Michael said. "But I have lost a good general and his defection has damaged morale in the ranks, just when we're trying to fight a war. You won't betray Dean, I understand that now. But you've no love for Castiel. Just let me know next time you see him and I'll take care of it."

"Oh no," Bobby said. "I might as well hand Dean over to you on a platter if I do that."

Michael smiled at him and the effect was peculiar. Bobby felt dizzy and sick. "Then find some way to separate them. And maybe I can find another way to end this war, without either Winchester having to be involved."

* * *

Crowley slumped down in a chair and made an idle gesture. Within moments, Simmons appeared at his side.

"My lord," she said, bowing her head respectfully. He could sense the simmering excitement that she could barely contain.

"Go on," he said tiredly. "Report."

"The angels escaped from Heaven's prison," Simmons said. "They have a sponsor, but not Loki, as you thought."

"No," Crowley agreed.

Simmons gave him an odd glance and then continued. "It's Lugh."

"The old Irish god?" Crowley said, his face creasing. "That's a name I've not heard in a really long time."

"Well, according to the angels, he approached them and said he'd help them out."

"In exchange for what?" Crowley asked. "Lugh never does anything for free."

Simmons looked at him nervously. She had no idea how he was going to react to this news. "He's after some kind of map."

"What kind of map?" Crowley said, baring his teeth.

"It's not clear," Simmons said. "The angels were really close-lipped about it. But Dorian thinks it's the map that shows the location of the Ark of the Covenant."

Crowley frowned at her, thinking hard. "It's a powerful artifact," he said after a moment. "But I can't see how it would be much use to Lugh. Are you sure that's where the map leads?"

"No," Simmons admitted. "According to Puriel, the map is of a region of northern Sudan, near the Egyptian border. It's annotated in Greek, and there's a note on it that says ' danger - the container is buried here".

"Container?"

"Well, I'm paraphrasing. I haven't actually seen this map, remember. But Puriel knew where it was."

"Well?"

"It was in the library of Alexandria."

"Of course it was," Crowley said with a sigh. "So how does this help Lugh? The library was destroyed centuries ago."

"I don't know," Simmons admitted. "Puriel said that he seemed happy with the information."

* * *

Balthazar swallowed hard as he walked towards Michael's war room. He had a new-found appreciation for the human expression about skin crawling, his skin felt as though it might slither right off his bones. When he entered the room, Michael was stood staring at a map of Earth, so intent was he that he didn't hear Balthazar enter the room.

"Michael?" he said softly.

Michael looked up and then gave him a slight smile. "Balthazar. Do you need something?"

"Uh, well, Zachariah said-"

"Oh, you want the execution orders, don't you?" he waved towards his desk. "They're on there somewhere."

Balthazar walked over to the untidy pile of papers and began to pick through them. It was hard to suppress a gasp when he saw some of the names. And then something else caught his eye, the familiar looping sigil of Lucifer. His fingers itched with the desire to pull the document out but Michael would not appreciate him reading his personal papers and it would be stupid to risk the archangel's ire.

"Have you found what you need?" Michael asked and Balthazar jumped guiltily. He grabbed the orders and managed to slip the Lucifer document into the pile and then turned to face Michael.

"Uh, yeah, I think so," he blustered. Michael canted an eyebrow at him and he wanted to kick himself. Shit, how did he think he put anything past the archangel.

"You're shocked, aren't you?" Michael said and Balthazar gulped. "You shouldn't be."

Balthazar stared at him, confusion replacing his fear of discovery. "I… shouldn't?"

Michael sighed and leaned back against the table. "Look, you're loyal and this work on the committee has been hard for you, I know. But really, does it come as that much of a surprise?" Balthazar was totally baffled and when Michael stalked towards him he was certain that his life was over. But Michael merely plucked a sheet of paper from the pile in his hands and dangled it in front of him. Zachariah's name was written in Michael's neat handwriting on an execution order.

"I don't understand," Balthazar admitted.

"I know," Michael said, placing the order on the top of Balthazar's pile. "He was arrested this morning. I told Razael to keep it quiet."

"I can't believe it," Balthazar said honestly.

"Think about it," Michael said, his smile taking on a wolfish quality that made Balthazar weak at the knees. "How did he manage to so completely mishandle the entire release of my brother from the Cage?"

"I hear the Winchesters are very difficult humans to work with," Balthazar said diplomatically. "I'm sure Zachariah tried his best."

"And yet, when our brother was released from his confinement, where was his vessel?" Michael said pointedly. "Who allowed him to escape? Sam Winchester should have been there, in that chapel. Someone arranged for him to escape. The only explanation that makes sense is that Zachariah was working against us from the start and he deliberately bungled the whole operation. Maybe he was hoping that Lucifer's vessel would not be strong enough to break the final seal. And when he was proven wrong, he spirited the brothers away in order to prevent my brother from taking his rightful vessel."

Horror pulsed in Balthazar's chest. So it was true, everything he'd been told about Michael and Zachariah's complicity in freeing Lucifer from his millennia-long imprisonment. Luckily, Michael misinterpreted the look of naked disgust on his face.

"I understand," he said. "I know it's hard to believe that Zachariah is a traitor. But I finally received proof and I issued the arrest warrant immediately."

"Proof?" Balthazar said weakly.

'Yes," Michael said, triumph and vindication ringing in his voice. "You see, somebody is plotting to kill me." Balthazar gasped involuntarily. "Yes, I know, it's very shocking. Zachariah went missing yesterday without explanation. My spies tell me he went to Earth and met with several of the pagan gods. Odin, Kali and Ahura Mazda."

"Pagans!" Balthazar said. "Surely they can't-"

"Of course not," Michael said icily. "But Zachariah is desperate it seems."

"So, uh, who is taking over as chair of the Unangelic Activities Committee?" Balthazar said with a sinking feeling.

"I haven't decided," Michael confessed. "Bartholemew wants the job of course, but I'm not sure he has the proper zeal for the work."

"Hael would be a good choice," Balthazar volunteered, hoping Hael would forgive him for suggesting her.

"That's an interesting suggestion," Michael agreed. "Are you not keen to submit your own candidacy?"

"Well, I'm not sure I'm committee chairmanship material…" Balthazar hedged.

"Nonsense," Michael said, looking delighted. "I shall put your name on the list of potential chairs immediately."

"Awesome," Balthazar said.

* * *

"Something fishy is going on," Mackenzie asserted. She was wearing a human woman who for reasons that Lucifer couldn't understand, was dressed as some kind of giant mouse with a huge pink bow on top of her head.

"Must you wear that ridiculous outfit?" he complained.

"I have to go back to the park once I make my report," she told him. "It's too much work to get in and out of it."

"Well at least take off the head," Lucifer suggested. She sighed and removed it. Her meatsuit had high cheekbones, straight dark hair and burnished skin.

"Is that better, my lord?" she asked tartly.

"Much," he agreed. "So, what is 'fishy' exactly? Why are you here complaining to me rather than locating Death as I asked?"

"Death's AWOL," Mackenzie said bluntly. "Maybe he's sitting this one out."

"He's the leader of the four horsemen," Lucifer said impatiently. "He doesn't get to sit the Apocalypse out."

"Well, I can't find any sign of him. More reapers than you can shake a stick at but the big guy is only conspicuous by his absence."

"Fine," Lucifer said dismissively. "I'll have to summon him myself. Tell me about the fish thing."

"There are angels living incognito in San Francisco," Mackenzie said ominously.

"So?"

"So they're living it up. Partying all night long. Drugs, sex, booze, you name it. Rumor is, they escaped from Heaven."

Lucifer frowned. "That is odd. My brother doesn't normally tolerate such… excesses. Do you think they are recruitable? A few more angels on our side can't hurt."

"I don't know," Mackenzie admitted. "I'll try and find out. But there are other strange rumors coming out of Heaven. My sources claim that the Host is on the brink of civil war."

"My goodness," Lucifer said sarcastically. "My brother's vaunted leadership qualities are letting him down?"

"I guess so," Mackenzie agreed. "And… Crowley's involved. Somehow. I'm not sure of the details but apparently Simmons and Dorian paid the rogue angels a visit."

"Hmm. Crowley's a snake but he knows what side his bread is buttered," Lucifer said dismissively. "But I'm disappointed that he hasn't reported on his findings to me. Send him a summons, would you?"

Mackenzie bowed awkwardly in her mouse outfit. "At once my lord."


	10. Chapter 10

Crowley was fretting and it was making Simmons anxious. That angel he'd been fooling around with, Balthazar, was supposed to be back by now but there had been nothing. Simmons privately thought her liege had lost his mind over the blond but it wasn't really her business. Dorian sidled up to her with a smirk.

"Still radio silence?" She gave him a quelling look. "Don't shoot the messenger, darling."

"There's been no word. What's up?"

"He's been summoned. Mackenzie was in my face this morning. I've a good mind to rip it off for her."

"Now, now, Dorian. Mackenzie's his favorite right now. Best to leave her face where it is." Simmons eyed him and then grinned. "My lord isn't going to be pleased."

"All right, don't rub it in," Dorian said. He knocked at the door.

"WHAT!" Crowley's voice roared and Dorian quailed. Simmons poked him in the kidneys.

"Uh, my lord Lucifer has summoned you," he squeaked and then jumped when Crowley suddenly threw the door open.

"Fine," the demon bit off. "I'm on my way." He stalked off down the hallway and Dorian raised eyebrow at Simmons.

"Is he planning to walk? That might take a while."

"Not necessarily," a new voice said and they spun around to see Zila twinkling at them.

"What the fuck are you doing here, sweetheart?" Dorian snarled.

"I'm checking in on my investment," Zila said, fluttering her long lashes at him. He bared his teeth.

"I don't know what that means and I don't want to know. Leave, before I make you." Zila didn't even blink, but Dorian's skin began to smoke and bubble. He stared at her wide-eyed and opened his mouth, either to scream or to ditch his meatsuit Simmons didn't know. But nothing happened. He just crumpled to the ground, steaming and twitching.

Simmons gave Zila a respectful nod. "What do you need? I'm afraid my lord Crowley is meeting with Lord Lucifer."

"Actually, I came to talk to you," Zila said, trailing her fingers up Simmons's arm. "Mm-hmm, you are a tasty thing, aren't you. Old, too. Old enough to remember me, in fact. I wonder," Zila gave Simmons an appraising look. "Do you remember me, Kynane?"

"Of course," Simmons said shakily. "But I haven't gone by Kynane in a very long time."

"No," Zila said, twirling a lock of Simmons's hair in her fingers. "And yet you keep my identity a secret from Crowley. What's that about, I wonder?"

"Demon politics are complicated," Simmons said opaquely.

"Perhaps," Zila said. "So, tell me Kynane, how deep is your loyalty to Crowley."

"I'd prefer not to answer that," Simmons said.

"I think you already did," Zila laughed. "Very well. And how about Lucifer?"

"Are you threatening the Lord of Hell?" Simmons asked incredulously. "I wouldn't recommend it."

"He's an archangel," Zila said dismissively. "Nothing I can't handle. But no, it's not really in my interest to interfere with his plans. Not yet, anyway. But I would like to see him."

"All right," Simmons said. "I'll see if I can arrange a meeting. But he is very busy right now."

"Tell him I am prepared to put an end to this nonsense. I know he has no real desire to battle Michael. I know he doesn't really want to bring on the Apocalypse. All he really wants is to be restored to his rightful place, as ruler of Heaven. As long as their Father is out of the picture, anyway."

Simmons stared at her and swallowed. "I'll pass the message along."

* * *

Cas came slowly down the stairs, a sense of doom beating at him relentlessly. He'd felt like this for hours and had finally abandoned any idea of sleep when the first rays of sunlight began to show through the thin, cheap curtains in the room he shared with Dean. Bobby was already up, reading a heavy tome and sipping at a cup of coffee.

"You're up early," Bobby observed.

"I couldn't sleep," Cas explained. "Is this a common problem?"

"If you've got a lot on your mind then yeah," Bobby told him. He eyed the ex-angel for a moment. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"You're talking about Dean," Cas surmised. Bobby nodded in acknowledgment. "I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"Humans and angels, they're not supposed to, you know…"

"Fraternize?" Cas asked acidly. "No, you're right. It is forbidden."

"And yet, here you are." Bobby said. Now that he was closer Cas could smell bourbon in the old man's coffee.

"If you have a concern, you should say so," Cas said coolly.

"All right, I will," Bobby said. "I'm the closest thing those boys have to a father, and I think messing around with you is gonna do a number on Dean when you decide you've had enough."

"What makes you think I would abandon him?" Cas asked, his expression outraged.

"You resisted getting involved with him until you lost your Grace. What happens if you get it back?" Bobby challenged and Cas went pale.

"I don't expect to regain-"

"That's not the point," Bobby snapped. "I'm asking you what would happen if you did!"

"Well, I would have to consider…" Cas started and Bobby made a slashing gesture with his hand.

"You see, right there. That's the problem. If you loved my boy, really loved him, it wouldn't be a case of 'considerations'. You'd stick by him." Bobby abandoned the pretence of his coffee and opened his hip flask, taking a long swig.

"It's not that simple," Cas defended.

Bobby snorted. "No, it really is. And what am I supposed to think about Sam and… I can't believe I'm saying this… Gabriel?"

"Sam knows what Gabriel is offering," Cas said loftily. "I don't think you need to worry about them."

"That's where you're wrong. Like I say, I'm the closest thing those boys have to a father. I'm sorry to say that was almost as true when John was alive as it is now. They've never had anyone stand up for them their entire goddamn life since Mary died. Except me, and I'm a drunken old idjit."

"I think you're-" Cas broke off. "Bobby, someone's summoning me."

Bobby stared at him. "Don't change the subject! You-"

Cas vanished, leaving Bobby staring at an empty room. "Well, shit," he said to the air.

The room was too dark to make out very much, other than the concrete floor and some metal beams above his head. Cas looked at the ring of holy fire in consternation and then realized he was not alone. The blond-haired man was in bad shape, his skin peeling away from his face and he walked with a slight limp. But Cas would recognize him anywhere.

"Lucifer," he breathed.

"Hello, Castiel," Lucifer said. He peered at Cas and his eyes widened. "So it's true. You really did fall for Dean Winchester. What a peculiar thing you are."

"What's wrong with your vessel?" Cas asked, ignoring his brother's jibe.

"Yes. Um. Nick is wearing a bit thin, I'm afraid. He can't contain me forever, so—" Lucifer shrugged. "We gotta get this party started."

"You—" Cas stepped forward almost involuntarily. The flames flared up and he stopped. "You are not taking Sam Winchester. I won't let you."

"Castiel. I don't understand why you're fighting me, of all the angels," Lucifer said sadly.

"You really have to ask?" Cas snarled.

"I rebelled, I was cast out. You rebelled, you were cast out. Almost all of heaven wants to see me dead, and if they succeed, guess what? You're their new public enemy number one. We're on the same side, like it or not, so why not just serve your own best interests? Which in this case just happen to be mine?"

"I'll die first," Cas said simply.

"I suppose you will," Lucifer agreed. He sounded regretful.

"How did you even bring me here?" Cas asked. "And why?"

"How is easy," Lucifer said airily. "Just because you lost your Grace, doesn't mean you're human. You can still be called by anyone who knows your Enochian sigil. And why? I would have thought that was obvious."

"I'm bait," Cas said in horrified realization.

"Bingo!" Lucifer said, pointing a finger at him with a grin. "Well, not just you. A few other old friends of the Winchesters are here too."

"Who?" Cas demanded.

"The Harvelles," Lucifer said. "Between them and you, I don't think Sam or Dean will be able to resist riding to the rescue."

"Dean! Get your lazy ass outta bed!" Bobby declared, kicking in the door. Dean tumbled out of bed and stared up at Bobby in shock.

"What the Hell, Bobby?" He looked around. "Where's Cas?"

"Zapped off to who knows where," Bobby said shortly. "Never mind that. Ellen and Jo are in trouble."

Dean scrambled to his feet. "Gimme five. And call Sam."

"He's already on his way. Gabriel too," Bobby told him. "Now move it, princess." He stomped out of the room.

Dean shoved on his jeans and stumbled down the stairs. "Come on, Bobby, where the Hell is Cas?"

"I told you, he disappeared. We were talking and then he just up and vanished."

"That doesn't make any sense," Dean said. "He's Fallen. He can't just flap off."

"Who can't flap off?" Gabriel's voice piped up. Dean turned to see him and Sam in the doorway.

"Cas has gone AWOL," Dean said shortly. "And Ellen and Jo are in trouble."

"He was here, and then he said he was being summoned. Then he was gone." Bobby said. "Ellen called just after, said she and Jo were pinned down in Carthage, Missouri."

"Fuck," Dean said with feeling. "Fucking Hell. That's where they got killed."

"Killed?" Bobby repeated in alarm. "Then what the Hell are you doing standing here, boy?"

"I can at least shorten the journey," Gabriel offered. Dean pulled a face but nodded. There wasn't a minute to spare.

"So, Crowley," Lucifer drawled. "Mackenzie tells me there is a nest of Fallen angels in San Francisco, and you have been sending out your people to spy on them. So, of course your report is simply lost in the mail?"

"No, my lord," Crowley said with gritted teeth. "I was waiting for another of my people to report first, so that I could give you a more complete picture of what's happening."  
"Kudos," Lucifer said silkily. "That's not a bad excuse. I don't care, tell me now."

Crowley sighed. "All right, but don't ask me what it means. There are six angels in San Francisco, all Fallen, all living together in a very swanky apartment and living it up like the world was ending. Which, oh yes, it is."

"And…" Lucifer prompted.

"And, since angels aren't known for their financial wizardry, I wanted to know who was paying for all of this partying. Simmons and Dorian said that the angels believed it was Lugh."

"Lugh?" Lucifer said, his eyebrows diving over his nose. "Irish Lugh?"

"That's the one."

"I don't understand," the archangel complained.

"Neither do I," Crowley said patiently. "Hence, I was waiting for that other report."

"Yes, yes," Lucifer said, waving a hand dismissively. "What can he be up to?" He focused his gaze on Crowley again. "How did you enjoy playing with the Shadow Blade?"

Crowley narrowed his eyes at his liege lord. "Did you know there was an entity trapped inside?"

"Oh no!" Lucifer mocked, clapping his hands to his face. "Don't tell me you let her escape!"

"You know who she is?"

"Oh yes," Lucifer said idly. "My brothers sealed her inside that wretched thing millennia ago."

"I don't suppose you'd mind filling me in?" Crowley asked. "I can't find anyone who recognizes the name she gave me."

"What name did she use?" Lucifer asked curiously. "Tenebrae, perhaps. She always liked that one."

"Zila," Crowley said shortly. "Which, like Tenebrae, means shadow."

"It's Zurvan," Lucifer told him.

Crowley's jaw dropped open. "Zurvan as in Zoroastrian god of time, Zurvan? What the fuck?"

"I don't see why you're getting so upset," Lucifer said.

"Because she says she can kill archangels!" Crowley cried. "She tried to prevent the vessels from being born. That's why your brothers locked her up in that knife."

"My, my, your concern for my wellbeing is touching," Lucifer said, wiping away imaginary tears. "But you're overreacting. She's not interested in coming after me. She wants Michael, Raphael and Gabriel. Well, Gabriel's dead so she's going to have to make do with Mikey and Raph."

"And what then?" Crowley demanded. "Zurvan was reputed to be utterly ruthless, completely without mercy and totally committed to her own self interest. What does she want, once she's exacted her revenge?"

"Who cares," Lucifer said irritably. "She's not a threat, Crowley."

"With respect, my lord, I think you're wrong." Crowley sketched out a bow and backed out of the room.

"Snivelling snake," Lucifer commented and returned his attention to the ancient manuscript he was studying.

* * *

The city of Carthage appeared to be utterly deserted. It was late, the sun had gone down long ago and the street lights gave the whole place an eerie glow.

"Quiet," Sam commented. "It's creepy."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "Last time, we were pinned down in a hardware store on Main St." A howl split the air and Sam felt a chill down his spine. His brother looked like he wanted to throw up.

"Hellhounds," Dean said shortly. "Come on." He broke into a run and Sam and Gabriel followed close behind. When they reached the store, it was deserted, the door hanging off it's hinges.

"They're not here," Dean swore. "Goddammit!"

Sam already had his phone to his ear but it went straight to voicemail. "Ellen's not picking up," he said, pulling up Jo's number. The sound of an old-fashioned phone ringing came faintly from a car parked a few yards away. It was an old Mustang, with an impressive dent in the front fender. On the hood sat a cellphone, ringing merrily.

"Shit," Dean said.

Gabriel patted Sam on the arm. "I can find them if I know who I'm looking for," he said. "I just need a memory."

"I don't understand," Sam said.

"Doesn't matter. Just concentrate on the two of them. I'll do the rest." Gabriel cupped Sam's face in his hands and gently probed the hunter's mind with a tendril of Grace. He didn't want to overdo it and strip Sam's mind completely. Sam's concentration was a little scattershot but it was enough. He concentrated for a moment and then grabbed Dean's arm and Sam's hand. "Got 'em."

The barn was old and not especially sturdy but Gabriel stopped moving at the door. "Warded," he commented. "I can't enter."

"That's OK," Sam said. "We can just…" He reached for the handle and was surprised when it swung open.

"Sam," a familiar voice said and Sam's head swam. "How good of you to join us."

"Cas!" Dean exclaimed. Sam saw the ex-angel, sitting forlornly within a circle of fire. Jo and Ellen were leaning against a beam nearby. And standing between them was Lucifer, in the now badly degraded body of Nick. Poor bastard, Sam thought.

"Ellen, Jo, are you guys OK?" Sam asked. Ellen shook her head mournfully and looked down at Jo. Blood was pooled around her stomach and dripping onto the floor.

"Well, isn't this a turn-up for the books," Lucifer was saying, his gaze fixed on Gabriel. "Rumors of your death were apparently greatly exaggerated."

Gabriel shrugged. "I was tired of the fighting. So I checked out."

"What, and now you're going to interfere again? I don't think so." Lucifer held a hand out to Sam. "Sammy. I don't suppose you'd just say yes here and now?" He gave Sam an affectionate smile. "End this whole tiresome discussion? That's crazy, right?"

"It's never gonna happen!" Sam said defiantly. He looked over at Gabriel who winked.

"Oh, I don't know, Sam. I think it will. I think it'll happen soon. Within six months. And I think it'll happen in Detroit," Lucifer said.

"You listen to me, you son of a bitch. I'm gonna kill you myself, you understand me?" Sam growled. "I'm going to rip your heart out!" Lucifer sauntered over and Gabriel had to fight the urge to slam against the invisible wall that kept him from entering the barn. He concentrated on trying to find a chink in the armor of sigils that protected the place. Lucifer trailed the back of his knuckles against Sam's cheek and he bit his lip.

"That's good, Sam. You keep fanning that fire in your belly. All that pent-up rage. I'm gonna need it." Sam stared at him, his stomach churning. Lucifer pressed closer and Sam knew he should be repelled but he couldn't move. "It will be so good, Sam. I promise. All the love you ever wanted. No lies, no co-dependency, just love." He leaned in and kissed Sam gently, soft lips pressed chastely and then the hint of tongue. Sam staggered and Lucifer caught him by the arm.

"Careful, Sam." He pulled Sam close again and kissed him more deeply this time, and Sam opened his mouth, letting Lucifer plunder with abandon. Gabriel screamed out Sam's name and Lucifer flicked out a hand. The barn doors slammed shut.

Dean hated leaving Sam to deal with Lucifer alone, but he had to get to Ellen and Jo. He shuffled over to Cas and kicked sand over the fiery circle and then dropped to his knees next to Ellen.

"How's she doing?" he whispered.

"She's dying," Ellen said harshly. "What the Hell is going on with Sam?"

"Later," Dean told her. "We've got to find a way out of here while Lucifer is distracted." Cas hobbled over and produced his angel blade, handing it hilt first to Dean.

"Will that work?" he asked.

Cas shook his head. "It won't kill him. It's only a seraph's blade. But it will disable him for a while if you can stab him in the head with it."

"Stab him in the head?" Dean said incredulously. "What do I look like, some kind of ninja?"

"I can do it," Ellen said. Dean's head swivelled round, his eyes like saucers. "Jo's gone, Dean." She looked down at her daughter, tears gathering in her eyes. "I have nothing else to live for. Give me the blade and I swear I'll stick it right between the bastard's eyes."

"Are you sure?" Cas asked. Dean gave him a stricken look.

"I'm sure," Ellen said. She kissed the top of Jo's head and swallowed hard. "Let's do this." She grasped the blade firmly and slowly got to her feet. Lucifer's full attention was on Sam and he did not seem to notice as she crept up behind him. Too late, he realized the danger but not before Ellen was able to bring the blade up and into his skull. He dropped to the ground and Sam stumbled backwards, staring at Ellen with a strange mix of anger and relief on his face.

"Go!" Ellen ordered, pointing towards the door. Dean didn't need telling twice. He grabbed Cas's arm and dragged him towards Sam. Sam struggled to his feet and limped over, pushing against the large rickety doors with what little strength he could muster. They swung open to reveal an empty field. Where was Gabriel?

"Owww!" Lucifer complained from the floor. "That hurt!" He got to his feet and turned his burning gaze on Ellen. Slowly he pulled the blade from his head, his malevolent gaze focused on Ellen.

"You killed my daughter, you son of a bitch," she said. "And you would have killed two boys who are as dear as sons to me." She grinned. "So, fuck you."

"Well, aren't you unpleasant," Lucifer said, his hand shooting out. His hand smashed through Ellen's ribcage and ripped out her heart. Blood gushed out in a fountain, drenching Lucifer in a gory fountain. He turned back to Sam, crimson dripping from his hair and a demented look on his face. "Now, Sam…" He didn't get a chance to say any more. Gabriel appeared on the other side of the barn, an unfamiliar Enochian sigil painted in blood on a beam. He slammed his hand into it and Lucifer vanished in a flare of blue light. Cas's blade fell to the floor with a clatter.

Gabriel crossed the floor to where Ellen had fallen and shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said to nobody in particular. "It took me forever to find a gap in the protection." He made his way over to where Sam was leaning against the wall, his eyes closed. "Sam?" he said gently. Tears streaked down the hunter's face.

"We need to regroup," Dean said tiredly. He looked around and spotted the farmhouse, where yellow light shone comfortingly from some of the windows. He looked at Cas and indicated the house with a thrust of his chin. Cas nodded and began to hobble towards it. Dean trudged after him, leaving Gabriel and Sam alone.

"Sam," Gabriel said again.

"Can't you bring them back?" Sam pleaded. "It's not fair. They didn't deserve to die."

"Perhaps not," Gabriel said. "But there are rules even I can't break."

"What does that mean?" Sam asked.

"It means that Ellen and Jo were destined to die here in Carthage. One way or another." Gabriel said and he sounded old. "Believe me."

Sam stared mutely at him for a moment. "Destined?" he said hollowly. "What the fuck happened to free will?"

"It exists," Gabriel said. "If Ellen and Jo hadn't come here, they'd have escaped their fate. But every time they follow the lead that brings them here, they die." Sam felt dizzy, and he sagged against the rough wood of the barn wall.

"You make it sound like you've done this before."

"Not exactly," Gabriel said. "But archangels aren't like humans, or even regular angels. So I am aware of multiple timelines, all at once. Most lead here, to Ellen and Jo dying in this crappy town. I'm sorry, Sam."

"No, it's not your fault," Sam said. He rubbed a hand over his face and then fixed his gaze on Gabriel. "Are we not talking about the elephant in the room?"

"Elephant?" Gabriel said, tilting his head in a way that reminded Sam of Cas. He wondered why Gabriel seemed particularly angelic right now.

"Lucifer," Sam said heavily. "I…"

"Not your fault, Sam. I thought I explained this already. Whether you like it or not, my brother has a strong claim on you. Fighting that is going to be the hardest thing you've ever done. The hardest thing anyone has ever done."

Sam nodded and ran a hand through his hair. "OK. Let's see what Dean and Cas found at the farmhouse. We need salt, gas and matches." He looked down at Ellen's body and swallowed hard, then turned and headed off in the direction of the farmhouse.

"I really am sorry," Gabriel told the dead eyes of Jo Harvelle, which seemed to be staring accusingly at him. "But your deaths were necessary. It's the only way he can be ready when the time comes."

* * *

Dean and Cas quickly established that the farmhouse was empty. They located firewood and salt easily enough and headed back outside.

"What happened, Cas?" he asked. "Bobby said you were summoned?"

"Yes," Cas said. "I was unaware that I could still be called by my Enochian sigil now I am mortal. It is a concern. Once I've helped you burn your friends, I will leave."

"What? No!" Dean exclaimed.

"Dean, if I stay with you, I am putting you both in danger," Cas explained patiently. "Lucifer will be able to find us wherever I go. We have to split up."

"Cas, I-" Dean broke off. If what Cas said was true, then Dean really did have to choose. Keeping Cas around would probably mean sending Sam away to keep Lucifer from finding him again. It was clear Sam couldn't resist the archangel, at least not at close quarters. But Gabriel would look out for him, wouldn't he?

"I'm going to look for some gasoline," Cas said when he didn't respond. "Wait here." He disappeared into the darkness.

"It really is for the best, you know," a new voice said. Dean turned around to see the concerned face of his father as a young man.

"Michael," he spat.

"Do you know how much time I have wasted trying to track you down?" Michael asked conversationally. "And I still don't know where you are, but I have at least been able to touch your mind."

"So you're not really here?" Dean asked.

"No. This is a… projection," Michael said. "So, you've seen Lucifer up close. It can't have been a pretty sight."

Lucifer's melted and burned visage swam before Dean's eyes, and then the sight of that mutilated face kissing his brother like he had the right… Dean's hands clenched and Michael raised his eyebrows.

"Well," he said, sounding a little lost for words. "Did Sam say yes?"

"No," Dean said firmly. He didn't add that only Ellen's intervention had stopped that from happening as far as he could tell.

"Ah," Michael said, giving him a penetrating look. He stepped closer to Dean, who stepped back involuntarily. "The bond between a True Vessel and an angel is special you know. There's a kind of," he broke off, waving his hands inarticulately. "Fatal attraction."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Dean squawked in alarm.

"I think my meaning was clear," Michael said, eyebrows raised. "Sam is drawn to Lucifer, he can't fight it. Sooner or later my brother will wear down his resistance and he'll say yes."

"Sam's strong," Dean said defensively.

"Not strong enough to resist the archangel for whom he was destined," Michael said mildly. "And neither are you." His eyes seemed to glow for a moment and Dean stared at him in horror. "I am not my brother, Dean." He lifted a hand and Dean ducked out of the way.

"Get your fucking paws off me," Dean snarled.

Michael ignored him. "Come here," he ordered. He held out both hands and Dean stared down at them, puzzled and disturbed.

"I'm not taking your hands, dude," he said.

Michael moved closer and grabbed his hands anyway. "Dean, I need you to listen to me."

"Cut it out!" Dean said, snatching his hands away.

"Dean?" Cas's voice said from far away. "Dean!"

He blinked open his eyes to find himself lying on the ground. "Wha?"

"I found you passed out on the ground. What happened?" the ex-angel rumbled.

"I… Michael's looking for me," Dean said. Cas stared at him in astonishment.

"He's reaching out to you." It was not a question.

"I guess. I told him to fuck off." Dean said. Cas barked out a laugh and Dean found himself chuckling along with him.

"My brother will not like that," Cas said, sobering. "Perhaps that was not so smart."

"Maybe not," Dean agreed.


	11. Chapter 11

Storm clouds gathered overhead and Sam winced as the first streaks of lightning split the sky. The funeral bier they'd built for Ellen and Jo had mostly died to mere embers. Dean and Cas were talking in hushed tones. Gabriel was silent by Sam's side.

"Death's coming," Sam said. Gabriel looked up at him in surprise. He shrugged. "Call it a hunch."

"You shouldn't be getting hunches," Gabriel said. "Not anymore."

"S'probly jus' an echo…" Sam slurred and alarm zinged through Gabriel.

"Sam?" He jumped back as a bolt of lightning crashed into the ground between them. When the smoke and afterglow had faded, he realized that Sam had vanished.

"What the Hell just happened?" Dean yelped. He dashed over to the spot where Sam had been standing. Gabriel shook his head in wonder and fear.

"I have no idea," he admitted.

"Did Lucifer do this?" Dean demanded.

"I don't think so," Cas said. "Gabriel would know better than I but if Lucifer could just zap Sam to his side, he would have done so long ago."

"Castiel's right," Gabriel said. "This was something else. He had a vision, I think, just before it happened."

"I thought you were curing him of all that," Dean accused.

"I am," Gabriel said. "He should be incapable of any psychic ability right now. I've got it blocked off."

"Not all of it, apparently," Dean snapped.

"It doesn't matter," Cas said. "We have to figure out what happened. Gabriel do you have any way to track him?"

"No," Gabriel said angrily. "Not since you did your little trick with their ribcages." He felt a strange fluttering sensation in his chest and frowned.

"What is it?"

"I… I don't know," Gabriel said. He concentrated on the sensation and gasped as it got stronger. But he didn't know what it meant.

"Gabriel!" Dean and Cas were yelling at him. He blinked at them both in puzzlement.

"I can feel something strange," he explained. "I can't explain it."

"Is this relevant to Sam going missing?" Dean said impatiently.

"I think so," Gabriel said. He closed his eyes and focused on the sensation again. "East."

"East?"

"That's where I'm being… drawn I guess."

"Fine," Dean said, pulling out his gun and cocking it. "East it is." He strode off, leaving Cas and Gabriel staring at each other.

"Brother, have you done something you shouldn't?" Cas asked bluntly, his face suspicious.

"No," Gabriel denied. Cas glowered at him. "I swear, Castiel. I wouldn't do that. You know I'm not the type to settle down."

"I don't know that," Cas said. "It's not like I've never seen you this way before."

"You're imagining things," Gabriel said thinly. "Sam and I enjoy ourselves, but it's a brief torrid affair, nothing more. He's Luci's vessel! There can't be any more, even if I…" He broke off and looked away. "Never mind. The point is we both know where we stand. Once he's clean, I'm out of the picture."

"You're a fool," Cas said without malice.

"I'm the fool?" Gabriel retorted. "Pot, kettle much?"

"The two situations are hardly comparable," Cas said. "I reject your accusation of hypocrisy."

"Oh, get that stick out your ass," Gabriel snarled. "Stop wasting your time on impossible fantasies and help me find Sam."

* * *

Sam had read stories as a child that took place in wooded glades but they sounded like magical places far away in Europe. He had admit though, this place definitely had glade-like properties. It was quiet, and the trees were closely packed. Bluebells and mushrooms sprouted from the ground and a light dew covered everything. He looked up at the sky, which was an angry gray and brown. Heavy rain began to fall, quickly soaking him to the skin, and when a crack of lightning came, he jumped. He looked around again but nothing looked familiar. Where the Hell was he?

He dug out his phone and scrolled down to Dean's number. "Sam?" his brother yelped in answer when he called.

"Uh, hi, Dean. I'm uh, kinda lost."

"What? That's all you've got to say? You get zapped off to God knows where by a big bolt of lightning and all you can say is you're lost!" Sam could hear voices in the background and then Gabriel's voice came on the line.

"Where are you, kiddo?"

"That's what I was trying to tell Dean, I'm lost. I don't know where I am."

"Keep talking. Describe what you can see," Gabriel sounded strange, Sam thought. His voice was taut with stress and it seemed out of character.

"I'm in a forest, I guess. All I can see are trees."

"Details, Sam," Gabriel said, his voice even more strained. What was going on?

"Uh, OK. It's probably a natural forest, there's lots of different kinds of trees. Umm, oak, pine, ash, I think this one's a birch. And this is a larch. There's bluebells at the foot of the oaks. And mushrooms everywhere. I can hear… a stream maybe? And some twigs snapping, possible animals."

"Can you see the sky?" Cas's voice said. Why had he taken over the phone? Sam frowned.

"A little," he said. "It's cloudy but I can see the moon and um, some stars."

"Can you recognize any constellations?" Cas asked carefully.

"No, but I'm kinda sucky at those…" Sam trailed off. "Wait, this moon is full. I thought we just had a full moon last week?"

"Don't worry about that," Cas said calmly. "Keep looking for a constellation you recognize."

"I'm sorry," Sam said. "I only know a few and I can't see any of them here."

"It's fine," Cas said. "Is there anything else you can see?"

Sam looked around trying to spot anything that seemed distinctive. "You know, it's night but I don't see any aircraft. That means it's either really late at night or I'm somewhere pretty remote."

A light caught his eye. "I think I see something, maybe firelight? I'm gonna go check it out." He hung up.

The forest was dense but luckily not so thick Sam couldn't make his way steadily towards the warm orange light that danced across the tree branches. Several men, women and children were gathered around the fire. Their dress suggested some kind of native American tribe.

"Uh, hi," Sam said, waving as he approached. The men got up and pulled out several weapons, clubs, some kind of stone ax and a blowpipe. "Uh, I come in peace?" Sam wanted to kick himself.

One of the men barked something but Sam didn't understand the language. "I'm sorry," he said. "Do any of you speak any English?"

The group spoke amongst themselves for several moments. Then the man Sam thought might be some kind of leader pointed into the trees. He didn't need to speak the language to understand he was being told to leave.

"OK, OK," he said. "I'm going." He walked off in the direction they had pointed. Hopefully he would find civilization that way.

* * *

"Something is wrong," Cas said as the phone went dead.

"You're damn right," Dean growled. "Where the Hell is Sammy?"

"No, I don't think that's the right question," Cas said.

"Castiel?" Gabriel said. "What are you saying?"

"Sam said his moon was full," Cas said. He pointed upwards. "We have a waning crescent."

"So?" Dean said.

"So, the moon's phases look the same, everywhere," Gabriel told him. "If Sam can see a different phase of the moon, something weird has happened."

"Yes," Cas agreed. "I have a feeling something very strange has happened. Sam said he couldn't recognize any constellations either."

"What?" Dean said. "Sam's no astronomer but even I can point out the Big Dipper." He pointed upwards.

"I have two theories," Cas said. "One is that Sam is south of the equator."

"I know they have different constellations," Dean said tentatively. "But didn't Gabriel say the moon should still be the same?"

"Yes," Cas replied. "Which is why my other theory is a little… strange."

"Spit it out, Cas."

"What if he has travelled through time?" the ex-angel asked. "I mean, it would mean going a really long way back or forward because the constellations change very slowly, but it would explain the discrepancy."

"How far?" Dean asked.

"At least ten thousand years," Cas told him.

"Ten thousand years," Dean repeated disbelievingly.

"I know, it's insane," Cas said. "It's the best I can come up with."

"But we think the entity that called itself Tenebrae is Zurvan, right. God of Time." Dean said. "I could buy it, I guess. Except, how come the cellphone worked?"

"That would be a difficult paradox to solve," Gabriel agreed. "No matter whether he went forward or back, there's no way we should have been able to speak to him."

"So, maybe he has traveled in time, but only to a point where cellphones still work," Dean suggested.

"Possibly," Gabriel said. "But then we're back to why the constellations look wrong." He looked very pale and drawn, Dean thought. His phone suddenly buzzed and he answered as quickly as he could.

"Dean," Sam said urgently. "Where the Hell am I?"

"We don't know, Sam?" Dean replied. "What's going on?"

"I just saw a wooly mammoth," Sam hissed.

"You saw a what now?"

"A mammoth. As in, totally extinct ancient creature. Died out thousands of years ago." Sam said. "So either I have landed in some kind of real life Jurassic Park, or something really weird is going on."

"Gabriel, Sam just saw a mammoth," Dean said. The archangel snatched the phone from his hand.

"Sammy," he said. "Where are you?"

"Haven't you been listening," Sam snapped. "I don't know."

"Sam… listen to me. Close your eyes. Concentrate. Try and find me." Gabriel's voice was almost hypnotic. "I'm looking for you, Sam. Reach out to me."

Gabriel suddenly spouted a slew of Enochian and disappeared. Dean looked at Cas.

"He said, I found him," the ex-angel explained but he looked troubled.

"What is it?"

Cas rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm not sure. Let's wait for Gabriel to get back."

* * *

The woman he found in the next clearing was familiar.

"Zurvan," Sam said. "I should have realized."

"Ah, so you know," Zurvan said. "Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later. It changes nothing. I told you I'd be back."

"Where are we?" he asked. She gave him a twinkling smile. "Ah. We're still in Carthage. When are we then?"

"Oh, about twelve thousand years ago from your standpoint. Give or take a century or two." She plucked a bluebell from the base of a tree and admired it. "This is a favorite time period of mine, before humans got all uppity and started ravaging the planet. We needed a bit of time to ourselves for this conversation. It's time for the first task."

"Task?" Sam replied stupidly. "What task?"

She shook her head, tsking under her breath. "Sam, you agreed to help me avert the Apocalypse. Don't you remember?"

"I remember," Sam said. "But that was before I found out who you are."

"Are you reneging on our deal?" Zurvan said sharply, the flower falling forgotten from her fingers.

"I can't let you kill Gabriel," Sam said helplessly. Zurvan regarded him coldly for a moment.

"You're asking a lot, Sam. Gabriel was one of those who trapped me." She frowned, and paced back and forth. "And Lugh has an ax to grind with him as well."

"I know," Sam said. "But there it is. There are already too many sides in this war. I'm only human."

"What?" Zurvan said absently. "Oh, no. You're not."

"Shut up," Sam growled and she glared at him with a malevolent look on her face. He flinched and stepped back.

"You might want to watch your tongue," she said sweetly. "It would be tragic if I had to cut it out."

Sam swallowed and waited, unsure of what to say. She studied him, one finger on her chin and then nodded. "Very well, Sam. I can be reasonable. Michael's the one I really want anyway."

Sam blew out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "What is it you want me to do?"

She gave him a slow smile that turned his insides to ice. "You need to help Michael find Dean."

"What! No!" Sam yelped.

"Sam," she said warningly.

"No. You can't ask this of me. He's my brother and Michael… I don't know what Michael will do to him to force him to say yes but-" he broke off and shook his head.

"He won't get a chance," Zurvan said. "We're only using him as bait."

"Bait," Sam repeated stupidly.

"Michael finds out where Dean is, Michael goes to Dean to convince him to say yes, Lugh and I kill Michael. Everyone's happy."

Sam stared at her unhappily. Crowley and Balthazar were already talking about killing Michael and now Zurvan and Lugh were plotting the same thing? "There has to be another way," he said desperately.

"No, Sam. You have to choose. Help me, and I'll leave Gabriel alone. Defy me and he dies along with his brother. And, oh yes, Dean too."

Fuck.

Gabriel listened carefully to the conversation between Sam and Zurvan. He had to admit to being rather touched that Sam was so willing to defend him but really, it wasn't like he couldn't look after himself. But she knew exactly how to put the pressure on. Gabriel grimaced, thankful she wasn't allying herself with Lucifer, given how well she was pushing Sam's buttons. Finally she delivered her ultimatum and walked away, leaving Sam staring after her in horror.

"Sam," he said, stepping out into the clearing.

Sam whirled around and then threw himself into Gabriel's arms. "Oh, God," he whimpered. "Gabriel!"

"Hey, hey, it's OK. You're OK. We're gonna get you out of here."

"Did you hear her?" Sam pressed urgently.

"Yes, Sam," Gabriel told him. "You know, you didn't have to defend me like that. She can't hurt me."

"She says she can," Sam said. "I don't know why, but I believe her."

"She's wrong," Gabriel said. "And she can't hurt Michael either. She's mad."

* * *

Cas and Dean didn't have to wait long. About twenty minutes after Gabriel had vanished, he returned with Sam clinging tightly to him.

"Thank God," Dean said with feeling. "Sammy? Are you OK?"

Sam disengaged from Gabriel, although not without a certain reluctance. Gabriel kept one possessive hand on his hip. "Yeah, I'm OK."

"So what happened? Where were you?"

"Right here," Gabriel said. He looked exhausted, Dean noticed.

"Uh, what?"

"Sam didn't move in space, well not much anyway. But he did move in time. Twelve thousand years." Gabriel looked like he was going to fall over.

"I don't understand," Dean said. "Was this Zurvan? What would she have to gain?"

"Going back so far has weakened me considerably," Gabriel said. "We should get out of here. I'll tell you everything once we're on the move."

Cas grabbed Gabriel's arm and started speaking to him forcefully in Enochian. Gabriel shook his head emphatically as he responded. Dean watched the argument, he didn't need to speak the language to know they were fighting.

"Can we just go home?" Sam said plaintively. "I'm beat."

Gabriel brushed his hand against his cheek. "I'm outta juice, kiddo. Sorry. I should be back up to speed by morning but I'm not capable of flying tonight."

"Then let's jack the truck parked at the farmhouse and find a motel," Dean decided.

"We could sleep in the farmhouse," Cas suggested but Gabriel shook his head, drooping with exhaustion.

"No, no way. We need to get out of here."

"All right," Dean said. "Come on." Since no further arguments were forthcoming, he strode off in the direction of the house. Cas gave Gabriel a significant look and then hurried after him. Gabriel sagged suddenly and Sam twisted to catch him.

"Gabriel! Are you…"

"I'm just really drained, that's all," Gabriel said, slurring his words slightly.

"I can carry you," Sam said. "It's not far."

"No," Gabriel said but Sam had already scooped him up and had started following his brother. "Hey, put me down you great lummox!"

"You saved my life," Sam said. "This is the least I can do." Gabriel tucked his head into his shoulder and closed his eyes, clearly too tired to argue further.

* * *

Gabriel was out cold when they reached the motel about an hour away from Carthage. After a brief discussion, Dean decided to rent just one room. He didn't want Sam left to defend himself alone with Gabriel depowered like this. He'd already been zapped off once tonight.

Cas followed him into the bathroom and he cocked an eyebrow at him. "You know our brothers are just out there?" he said with a grin.

"I did not follow you in here in order to initiate sexual relations," Cas said primly. "We need to talk."

Dean sobered immediately. "OK. What's up?"

"Sam was thrown back in time twelve thousand years, by Zurvan. She apparently wants Sam to help her hunt down Michael. But there are some problems with this whole event. Big problems."

"Like how does Zurvan plan to kill Michael? He's an archangel. They're notoriously difficult to even injure." Dean said thoughtfully.

"Yes," Cas agreed, "But that's not what I meant."

"OK," Dean said. "What is it, Cas?" The angel shuffled uncomfortably and Dean had a feeling he wasn't going to enjoy this conversation.

"The cellphone call. If Sam was thrown back in time, how were we able to talk to him on the phone?" Cas said, his eyes intent.

Dean considered it. "Could Zurvan have done it? Some kind of magic to make the phone work?"

"Of course," Cas said. "But why? It would have been extra effort on what was already a significant undertaking."

"Uh…" Dean shrugged, wondering where Cas was going with this.

"I think she did it because she wanted Gabriel to go and get Sam. But she already knows that you and Sam are warded from angels. So how did Gabriel even find Sam? And how did she know he could?"

"I dunno. I assumed it was some kind of angel mojo." Dean said.

Cas shook his head. "I could not have done it at full power."

"Yeah, OK, well, he is an archangel." Dean shrugged. "You said yourself that they have more power over time travel and stuff."

"I don't think so, Dean. Look, I engraved those symbols on your ribs. Sam too. Gabriel should not have been able to find Sam, even without the distance of twelve millennia."

"What are you saying, Cas?" Dean said in alarm.

"I'm saying something's going on between them. I asked Gabriel if he had changed his mind about his relationship with Sam. He swears it's a casual thing between them but…" Cas shook his head in frustration.

"I think I'm missing something," Dean complained.

"There's an old bonding ritual, from back before the prohibition on angel-human relations," Cas paled a little. "I guess it's like a marriage, but more permanent. There's no way to dissolve it once formed. Bonded pairs can always find each other. Neither time, nor distance nor any power in the universe can prevent it."

"Sam and Gabriel are bonding?" Dean hissed. "What the fuck, Cas?"

"Gabriel says no," Cas told him. "I pressed him quite hard on the matter, but he swears up and down that it's impossible."

"Tell me what's involved," Dean demanded.

"There are three parts," Cas said. "There are the matings." Dean choked but Cas ignored him. "The blood exchanges, and the marks."

"Blood exchanges!" Dean yelped.

"Keep your voice down," Cas hissed. "Yes. Each half of the bond must swallow the other's blood three times."

"OK," Dean said. "And the marks?"

Cas colored slightly. "It can be anything. Sometimes the sigil of each partner's name. But the form of the mark is not important, only the fact that it is given with love. The bonding is old magic. Matings on their own would not start the bonding process. They have to have done at least one of the other two for the bond to begin to form."

"I haven't noticed any new tattoos on Sam," Dean said offhandedly.

"No," Cas agreed. "But… there's the issue of how Gabriel is cleaning up Sam's demon blood addiction."

Dean stared at him. "You're not serious."

"Why would I joke about something like this?" Cas asked. "Gabriel has been feeding Sam his blood, as an antidote to the demon blood." Dean went so white, Cas was concerned he might pass out.

"Dean, Gabriel assured me that Sam was in no danger. His blood would purify Sam and burn out the addiction."

"But you said the bonding required a blood exchange," Dean said.

"Exactly," Cas agreed. "Gabriel says he's been very careful not to consume any of Sam's blood. He won't even swallow-"

"Stop!" Dean snapped. "I don't think I want to know how that sentence ends."

Cas looked irritated. "Well," he huffed. "The point is that Gabriel is adamant that he is not bonding with Sam. His plan was to clean him up with some casual sex on the side. Nothing more."

"When did my life become a soap opera?" Dean complained. "That son of a bitch better not hurt Sam."

"As far as I know, Sam is aware of Gabriel's position and is not seeking anything more." Cas said. His mouth was pinched and Dean peered at him.

"You don't approve."

"No," Cas admitted. "Gabriel may have left Heaven and abandoned his responsibilities but he's still an angel whether he likes or not. Fraternizing with humans is utterly forbidden and with good reason. The Nephilim almost destroyed creation."

Dean looked uncertainly at the ex-angel. "So if you were to get your mojo back…"

"Then I would have to reconsider our… relationship," Cas said quietly.

"Dammit, Cas!" Dean exploded. "Am I just a way for you to pass the time until you get your wings back?"

"No, Dean," Cas said, grabbing his shoulders. "I don't expect to return to Heaven's fold. I'm mortal now, and I'm going to stay that way."

"You can't know that," Dean said, feeling as if the bottom had just dropped out of his world. Because it had, really. Unless history unfolded very differently this time, Cas would be restored to full angel status at some point. And their time together would be over. Strangling back a sob, he yanked open the bathroom door and stomped out, wrenched open the motel room door and slammed it behind him.

Sam was spooned up behind Gabriel, and he lifted his head at the noise. "Cas?"

"Go back to sleep," Cas told him.


	12. Chapter 12

Cas couldn't sleep. Dean had come back and thrown himself into bed angry, falling into a sullen kind of slumber. Cas had tried curling up beside him, but Dean had rolled away from him with a grunt, leaving him cold and miserable. After a half hour of trying, he slipped out of bed and out of the room.

The motel was a sort of square shape, with a central courtyard. Although courtyard was probably too grand a name for that patch of scrubby grass and a few dying trees. It was utterly silent except for a light breeze that rustled the branches and seemed to whisper to him. He'd never understood the human fear of the dark before, but here in this poorly lit square he felt distinctly uneasy.

"Castiel," a woman's voice said. He turned and looked at her. She was beautiful, her eyes were a mesmerizing violet that regarded him steadily through black lashes.

"Zurvan," he greeted her.

"You're unhappy," she observed.

He stiffened and frowned at her. "It's none of your affair."

"Perhaps," she said. "But I'd like to help."

"Why?" Cas said roughly. "Whatever you're planning, I don't see how my happiness is relevant."

"Because I need your help," Zurvan said. "I need access to Heaven and you're my ticket."

"I'm cut off from Heaven," Cas said sharply. "I can't get you in there. And they'd probably kill me on sight."

"You know about a secret way in," she said confidently. He gaped at her, nobody, not even Gabriel knew about this.

"You're crazy," he lied. "There is no back way into Heaven."

She pursed her lips. "Is it possible I'm too early? I've been so busy, it's easy to lose track."

Cas shook his head at her. "I don't know. Why would you want to sneak into Heaven anyway?"

She smiled at him, a shark's smile, all teeth and no humor. "I have a message to deliver." She looked him up and down. "You're still fallen."

"Of course," Cas said. "It's not exactly something you get over."

"My sweet, what are you up to?" Lugh's voice said as he appeared and glared at Cas.

"I was trying to get information on a secret way into Heaven," she told him irritably. "But I'm too early. Castiel doesn't have his Grace back yet."

"Of course not," Lugh said easily. "I was just coming to deliver it." He dangled a pendant from his fingers which glowed with a bluish-white light. Cas gasped and couldn't suppress the yearning within him for his Grace, which sang to him. Unconsciously, he reached for it and Lugh swung it out of reach with a laugh. "Now, Castiel. You can't expect me to hand this over free of charge."

"What do you want?" Cas growled, his eyes transfixed by the pendant.

"Simple. Tell me which angel was responsible for kicking off the Apocalypse."

Cas stared at him. "That's not an easy question to answer. I bear some responsibility for example."

Lugh made a careless gesture. "I'm not interested in your pointless guilt. I'm talking about the instigator."

"I cannot say his name," Cas said. "He's hunting me."

"Ah," Lugh said. "Could you possibly mean your big brother, Michael?" Cas looked away and Lugh laughed. "I'll take that as a yes. Good, Castiel. See, this is not so hard, is it?"

"I don't understand why answering that question helps you," Cas said. "But I don't care. Hand it over."

"Not so fast," Lugh said. "That was just the beginning. I have a few more questions. For example, I know Dean Winchester is his vessel. Tell me, have you… desecrated it yet?" Cas wanted to vomit and shook his head slowly. "I see. You prefered it the other way around." Lugh gave him an appreciative look up and down.

"Lugh, where are you going with this?" Zurvan asked impatiently.

"Trust me," was all Lugh would say. "Castiel, you do realize that there comes a point where Dean is no longer… suitable as a vessel, don't you?"

Cas gaped at him. "Unsuitable?"

"Yes. A bonded human cannot serve as a vessel for another angel. Not as in it is forbidden, but as in it is impossible. The human's soul and the angel's Grace are wedded. No other angel's Grace can enter." Cas swallowed hard. The redhead was laying all of his hopes and dreams out in front of him. It had to be a trick. But everything he said rang true. He wished he could ask Gabriel about this.

"So, to put it more succinctly and if I may, more bluntly, fuck the brains out of that hunter of yours and bond with him. And Michael will be unable to take him as a vessel, even if Dean's will crumbles." Cas felt dizzy. This was a solution to the problem, and one he could, almost, live with.

"I'll never be welcome in Heaven again," he said.

"That's true even if you don't do this," Lugh reminded him.

"And Gabriel?" Cas said faintly.

Lugh's face turned savage. "What about him?"

"He's close with Sam. I think they might have already started a bond although Gabriel swears otherwise."

Lugh grinned broadly at him and Cas stepped back unsteadily. "What did you do?"

"Oh, Castiel. What makes you think I did anything?" Lugh looked tremendously pleased with himself and it made Cas nervous.

"You're happy about it, and that makes no sense. I thought you wanted to kill him and Sam."

"Hey," Zurvan interjected. "I need Sam."

"I know," Lugh said soothingly. "I changed my mind. I realized bonding Gabriel to one person for all eternity is a better punishment than death. He's a free spirit. Being tied down will make him insane, and the pain of his infidelity will destroy Sam. Oh, no, killing them is  _far too easy._  I want them to  _suffer._ But I will need you to help make sure the bond is completed."

Cas stared at him, observing carefully the malice and glee that radiated off Lugh like a vicious sun. What he did next was crucially important. If he messed it up, he could disturb the delicate balance of what had to be his Father's hand. He swallowed.

"I accept."

"What, just like that?" Lugh said suspiciously.

"I've been in love with Dean for a long time now. Since I first touched his soul in Hell, despite my efforts to resist. Being mortal has been painful, almost more than I could bear but it meant we could be together. I did not want to try and regain my Grace, because I felt the relationship between us was inappropriate.

"But you're offering me everything I could want. My angelic nature restored and the opportunity to remain with the man I love. We would no longer be running from the threat of my oldest brother wanting him as a vessel. And the price you're asking me to pay? Is nothing."

Lugh and Zurvan exchanged looks. "We were expecting more resistance. Don't you care about hurting Gabriel?" she asked.

"Gabriel made his choice to abandon us long ago," Cas said.  _Forgive me, brother. But I do what I must._  "We teamed up with him because he is powerful, not out of love. Give me my Grace and I'll tell you how to sneak into Heaven."

Lugh gave him a slow, lazy smile. "Good. Very good." He gave Cas a considering look. "I don't suppose you fancy a little walk on the wild side before you bind yourself to Dean?"

Cas shook his head, hoping to look as regretful as possible, although the thought actually repelled him. "I'm sorry, Lugh. I won't betray Dean."

The redhead gave an easy shrug. "No matter. Maybe I'll fuck Sam again, once Gabriel gets bored." He offered the pendant to Cas, and then swung it out of reach once more. He gave a rueful grin. "You know, I'd like to trust you, Castiel. I really would. But what's to stop you reneging on us as soon as you're angeled up again?"

"A geas," Zurvan suggested.

"A geas!" Cas repeated in astonishment.

"If you're on the level, it should be no problem," Lugh said.

"Fine," Cas said tightly. "A  _written_  geas."

Lugh looked irritated but nodded his agreement. Zurvan produced a quill and Cas offered up his forearm. She wrote carefully on the skin and he winced as the sharp edge scraped at his nerves.

_I, Castiel, angel of Thursday, of the third order of Seraphs, do solemnly pledge to bind myself to Dean Winchester and provide Zurvan of Eranshahr and Lugh of Eireann the map of the Heavens._

He stared at the words in horror. "You actually want the map?" Lugh gave him a wolfish grin. He took a deep breath. "Fine." He pulled a penknife from his pocket, a gift from Dean, and opened it. He sliced into his arm and spoke the ritual words, binding the writing on his arm into a compulsion on his very existence. The words glowed and then faded, as if they had never been. He held out his hand and Lugh dropped the pendant into his outstretched palm.

He looked at it, and then back at Lugh, who gave him a nod. "Go ahead."

He broke open the pendant and tipped his head back, letting the Grace flow back into him. He screamed, the pain and the overwhelming force filling him. A soundless explosion rippled out in all directions. In the distance he could vaguely hear a car alarm wail. He opened his eyes. He could see Lugh's nature clearly now. And Zurvan's strange, dark swirling aura.

"Now, Castiel. The map."

He nodded gravely and held out a hand. Confused Lugh took it and Cas turned his hand palm up. He gave a small smile and then placed his palm down on Lugh's and concentrated. White light burst out from where their hands touched and Lugh sagged to his knees, his face knotted in pain.

"What are you doing?" Zurvan cried, grabbing Cas's arm. He gave her a dark, disturbing grin. "Giving him the map. Just as you asked."

"Look at him," she said urgently. Lugh was sweating and making an odd keening sound. Cas let go and the Tuatha de Danaan fell back and then slumped to the ground.

"The map of the Heavens is powerful knowledge," Cas said coldly. "It extracts its own price."

Zurvan stared at him. "What kind of price?"

"Hope," Cas said and turned on his heel. He walked away, the sound of Lugh's ragged breathing in his ears.

* * *

Sam lifted his head and squinted into the dark room, uncertain what had disturbed him. Gabriel was tucked neatly in front of him, Sam spooned up behind him. He could see the shape of his brother sprawled across his bed. Alone, by the looks of it. Where was Cas?

He carefully pulled away from Gabriel and slid out of bed. No sign of the fallen seraph anywhere. He pulled on his jeans and shoes and cracked open the motel room door, hoping to find Cas on the balcony. He was disappointed. He sighed, at least he could go get a soda since he was up and about. There was a machine on the other side of the quadrant.

He was just about to emerge from the shadows of the building when he heard Cas's voice. He was chanting, probably in Enochian at a guess. And then the ground rumbled and Sam closed his eyes, driven by some unknown instinct. White light, so bright that even with his eyes closed his retinas burned, flashed out and he had to bite his lip to keep from crying out. Finally the light died and he dared to open his eyes again.

Cas was stood in the square, straight and tall. The shadow of his wings reflected on the building behind him and Sam gasped. Cas had his Grace back?

He watched in horror as Lugh took his hand and Cas did something to him that drove the redhead to his knees and then looked at Zurvan with a look on his face that made Sam cold inside. He'd never seen Cas look so… alien. He was speaking to her and Sam strained to hear what he was saying.

"It extracts its own price." Cas was saying and Zurvan looked horrified.

"What kind of price?" she asked.

"Hope," Cas said and turned away. Sam ducked behind a dumpster, instinct telling him it might not be safe to be seen by the angel right now. He let Cas walk away and then peeked out to see what Zurvan and Lugh would do. She kneeled beside the unconscious Irish deity for a moment and then stood up.

"You can come out, Sam," she said. He sighed and stepped out. "Come here. You're safe."

Sam doubted that but walked over to her anyway. He looked down at Lugh, who groaned.

"What the Hell was that?" Sam breathed.

"Castiel was not exactly forthcoming with the price of knowledge," Zurvan said angrily.

"You made a deal with him?" Sam asked. "For his Grace?"

Zurvan looked even more annoyed. "Yes. We needed the map of Heaven, which he stole just before he betrayed his masters for your brother. We were able to secure his Grace and offered it to him in exchange for the map. He did not reveal that the map extracted it's own price as well.

"He said hope," Sam said.

"Indeed."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know," Zurvan said. "I expect we'll find out when Lugh awakens. Go, Sam Winchester. I have no ill will towards you and I do not know what will happen when Lugh regains his senses. His temper is… unpredictable."

Sam nodded and after one last look at Lugh, walked away.

When he returned to the room, he wasn't sure what to expect. But it was quiet. Gabriel and Dean were still asleep and there was no sign of Cas. He raked a hand through his hair, unsure whether to try and wake Gabriel. But the archangel was dead to the world and so Sam lay down and tried not to think about what he'd seen.

* * *

There was still no sign of Cas the next morning. Dean awoke first and then roughly shook Sam and Gabriel awake too.

"Cas is missing," he said urgently.

Sam gulped. He'd hoped the angel would return and spare him the duty of filling in his brother and his lover of what had happened the night before.

"I think he got his Grace back," he said. Dean paled and sat down on the end of the bed, his boots tumbling from his grasp onto the floor.

"How?" Gabriel demanded. He still looked weak and strangely vulnerable in a way that made Sam's throat clog.

"I'm not quite sure. I went out to get a soda last night and saw him meeting with Lugh and Zurvan in the square. He gave them some kind of map of Heaven in return for his Grace."

"No," Dean said faintly, though it was more a protest than denial of what Sam was saying.

"The Map?" Gabriel demanded. "What is he doing with that?"

"I don't know," Sam said. "That's just what I overheard. But Zurvan confirmed it to me."

"You spoke to her?" Gabriel snapped, worry and exhaustion warring for dominance in his voice.

"She knew I was there," Sam said, feeling almost as tired as Gabriel sounded. "What was the point in hiding?"

"Why would he do this?" Gabriel said distractedly. Sam ignored him because Dean was still very pale and his hands were shaking.

"Dean? Dean!"

"So he's gone," Dean said quietly.

"He'll be back," Sam predicted and was astonished when a tear ran down his brother's cheek.

"I don't think so, Sammy. He said as much, that if he ever got his Grace back…" Dean gulped. "That it would be over between us."

"Dean, I don't know…" Dean slumped back on the bed and Sam exchanged a concerned look with Gabriel.

The motel door swung open and all Sam could do was stare as Cas entered with coffee and a paper bag of what smelled like fresh croissants.

"Cas?" he blurted out.

"Good morning, Sam," Cas said easily. "I brought breakfast." He eyed Dean curiously. "Dean?"

"Cas," Dean said in a desolate tone.

"Hey, Cas, lemme take those from you," Sam said hurriedly. He relieved the angel of his burden and then tugged on Gabriel. "Come on, Gabe. Let's eat these on the balcony, it's a beautiful morning."

Gabriel grumbled but let Sam drag him out of the room.

"Dean?" Cas said, concerned.

"Got your mojo back, I hear," Dean said, still lying on his back with his eyes closed.

"Yes, Dean," Cas said. "But-"

"It's fine," Dean said. "You warned me what would happen." He rolled over on his side, his back to the angel.

"Dean," Cas said firmly. "I'm not going anywhere."

Silence.

"I was wrong."

Nothing.

"Dean, please." He sat on the bed and placed one hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean tried to shrug him off but the angel was adamant.

"Bond with me," Cas said.

Dean rolled over and stared at him. "What?"

"Bond with me. I love you. You love me. We can be together. Forever."

"What about what you said?" Dean asked, hurt and perplexed.

"I learned something," Cas told him. "If we bond, Michael can't use you as a vessel."

Dean shifted away from him. "I don't understand"

Cas tried not to sigh with impatience. "Bonding is like a marriage, but without divorce. Permanent. A bonded human can't serve as a vessel."

"No, I think I got that. Is that the only reason you want to do this? To protect me from Michael?" Dean asked. His face was unusually blank.

"No," Cas said. "I want to bond with you because I love you. This is an added bonus, if you like."

"So what was all that talk about reconsidering our relationship if you got your wings back?" Dean asked.

Cas looked away, embarrassed. "I thought I would have to get back into Heaven's good graces for that to happen. And they would never approve."

"But instead you trusted Lugh to get you your Grace back?" Dean said incredulously. "And in return you gave him some map to Heaven?"

Cas's mouth dropped open in shock. "Who told you that?"

"Sam overheard some of your conversation last night," Dean told him.

"It's complicated," Cas said and it was Dean's turn to stare openmouthed. "I promise you, Dean, it's OK."

"What did you do?" he asked nervously.

"In order to get you out of Heaven's grasp, I stole the Map of the Heavens from Michael's study. This map was created by my Father and details every entrance and exit to every plane. Heaven, Hell, Earth, Purgatory, Oz…"

"OK," Dean interrupted. "Doesn't that seem like a very powerful thing to just hand over? I mean, I understand you wanted to be an angel again but… I don't know Cas. Lugh's made it very clear he's out to get Sam and Gabriel both."

Cas grinned at him and the effect was startling. "The map doesn't come without a price. And Lugh's ideas of revenge are not going to go as he planned."

"What kind of price?"

"The map takes a sacrifice. I gave up my attachment to Heaven, in order to steal the map and save you. It was a price I was happy to pay. I don't know what it took from Lugh, but it will not have been insignificant."

"OK," Dean said doubtfully. "And what did you mean by Lugh's revenge not going as planned?"

Cas eyed him uncertainly. "Promise me you won't 'freak out'?" he said, making airquotes with his fingers.

"No," Dean said grimly. "Now tell me."

"Lugh has tricked Gabriel into starting to bond with Sam. I don't know how. Perhaps he slipped some of Sam's blood into a candy bar?"

Dean's face darkened with understanding. "That's how he was able to track Sam?"

Cas nodded. "I think so."

"Without either of them consenting to any of this," Dean growled. "Cas, this is not good news."

"Isn't it?" Cas said mildly. "As far as I can see, Gabriel has been head over heels for Sam for a long time. And I think Sam is close to falling for my brother too. If they bond, Sam is useless to Lucifer. And with us bonding too, no vessel for my eldest brother either. I believe that is what you call, 'Game Over'?"

Dean pulled a face, still uncomfortable with the whole thing. "So why would Lugh trick Gabriel into bonding with Sam anyway?"

"He believes Gabriel will get bored of being tied down and abandon Sam. The pain of separation and what he thinks will be Gabriel's inevitable infidelity would be tremendous."

Dean growled at him. "You've got to be kidding me."

"You're worrying unnecessarily," Cas told him. "Gabriel's crazy about Sam and he is not nearly as faithless and flighty as Lugh thinks. Gabriel was in love once before, you know. And if he hadn't been betrayed, they would still be together."

"Oh?" Dean said curiously. "Who was that?"

"His name was Judas Iscariot," Cas said sadly. "Gabriel was madly in love with him. And ready to bond with him, even though all the Heavenly Host were against it. And then… Judas betrayed all of us. But Gabriel was destroyed. He disappeared not long after that."

Dean let out all the air in his lungs in an explosive breath. "Judas? Fucking Hell, Cas."

"I know," the angel said. "My brother loves very deeply. So believe me when I say, if he truly loves Sam, he will never abandon him."

"If he loves Sam," Dean repeated.

"He does," Cas assured him. "He's probably in deep denial about it. But I can see it."

"And us?"

"I'm quite serious," the angel told him. "I love you. You've already admitted to loving me. I want to bond with you. It prevents Michael from using you as his vessel. I cannot see a downside here."

"Unless he kills me out of fury," Dean said.

Cas drew himself up, eyes blazing. "He would regret that."

"Look, Cas, this is all a bit sudden," Dean said. "A few hours ago, I was sure you'd dump my ass as soon as you were all angeled up again. Now you're asking me to pledge myself to you for all eternity? It's too fast for me, man."

Cas couldn't conceal his look of hurt but he nodded. "Of course, Dean. We have time." He got up and opened the motel room door. Sam jumped furtively away from it and Cas leveled a look at him.

"Sam, Gabriel, we have things to discuss," he said. Sam gulped and grabbed Gabriel's hand before following Cas inside.

"What's going on, Castiel?" Gabriel said.

Cas bit his lip and eyed his brother nervously. "Gabriel, you aren't going to be very happy about this, but please listen to me before you lose your temper."

"No promises, bro," Gabriel said. Unable to keep still, he began pacing back and forth.

"Lugh has, somehow, managed to trick you into beginning the bonding process with Sam," Cas said bluntly. Gabriel stopped moving and stared at him, his mouth open in shock.

"You have to admit it explains a few things," Dean added.

"Before you explode, consider the advantages," Cas pressed. "Fully bonded, Lucifer can't use Sam as a vessel. The Apocalypse is over. We'd still have to get Lucifer back in the cage, but the biggest problem is gone."

Gabriel cast a look at Sam and then turned the full fury of his gaze on Cas.

" _Consider the advantages!"_  he growled, his True Voice leaking out at the edges. The windows rattled ominously. Sam gulped, the waves of rage coming off Gabriel making him shift away from the wrathful archangel. It was a shock, certainly, the idea that Lugh could have tricked Gabriel into forming a permanent attachment with him. But Gabriel's anger frightened him. Apparently, even the thought of being bound to Sam was wholly unpleasant to him, and Sam could understand that. But when Sam had offered Gabriel his blood, without knowing about the bonding ritual, he hadn't thought Gabriel found the idea quite so repellent. It hurt, even if Sam wasn't sure about entering into such an indissoluble arrangement either.

"Brother, please, try to think rationally. It's not as if you and Sam hate each other," Cas was saying. "I think you're over-reacting. There's no reason to believe Sam will betray you."

Sam's head whipped around. What was Cas talking about?

" _Everyone_  betrays me," Gabriel snapped. "Why should Sam be any different?" Sam gaped at him in astonished horror. The archangel stood up and glared at Cas. "I need to be somewhere else," he said and clicked his fingers. Nothing happened. He cast one more glance around the room and then stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Sam closed his eyes.

"Aargh," Dean said. "You people are making me crazy. Sam, come on. Let's go load up the car." Sam nodded dumbly, pain and misery making him sluggish. "Sammy! Snap out of it," Dean said. "Gabriel will be back. He just needs to go kick the top off a mountain or something."

"Yeah," Sam said blackly. "Because being bound to me is such a fucking horrible fate." He dragged himself upright and lurched out the door. Dean turned to Cas, his face drawn.

"Cas… I… Fuck. I gotta-" he made a gesture towards the door. Cas gave him a fractured smile.

"Go. We can talk later."


	13. Chapter 13

When it was clear Gabriel wasn't going to return anytime soon, Dean decided it was better that they hit the road and get some more miles between them and the clusterfuck that Carthage had been. Cas had fluttered off to see if he could track Gabriel down and talk some sense into him. They agreed to meet back at Bobby's. Depression left Sam staring sightlessly out of the window and the lull of the engine drone soon had him drifting into sleep.

After a few hours, Dean pulled over for something to eat and had considered waking Sam but he looked unusually peaceful as he slept against the window and after everything that had happened, he just didn't have the heart. He ambled into the restroom and after using the facilities, stared at himself in the fly-spattered mirror. Bound, to an angel. To Cas. He shook his head. His life was insane. Well, he'd wanted to come back and change things. He had to admit, this was going differently to last time. He wasn't sure if it was better, but at least they'd managed to derail the train. That had to mean something, didn't it? And Cas… He shivered. It was almost too good to be true, but for once he wasn't going to ruin things by looking a gift horse in the mouth.

A cool sensation on Sam's face startled him awake. He blinked open crusted eyes to find the car parked at a gas station and Dean nowhere to be seen. He'd probably stopped for food or the restroom but Sam was surprised his brother hadn't woken him first.

"Hello, Sam," Lucifer said and Sam turned to see the fallen archangel lounging on the backseat. He scrambled for the door handle but the door stubbornly refused to open. His breath misted in front of him as the temperature in the car dropped.

"No," Sam said. No point in making useless small talk.

"Sam," Lucifer said again, giving him one of those sad, only I understand you smiles. "I see Gabriel has upped and left. He always was so fickle. I'm sorry, Sam. But I'm still here. The offer's still open. Let me love you. Leave all this pain and awfulness behind you. I promise, you'll never be unhappy again."

Sam swallowed. It sounded so good, so enticing. But this was Lucifer, he reminded himself. And Lucifer lies.

"I do not," the archangel said indignantly. "I don't need to lie, Sam."

"Yeah?" Sam challenged. "Explain to me how destroying the world will make me happy?"

"I never wanted the Apocalypse," Lucifer said. "I wanted free of the Cage, sure. But what I really want is to return home. It's Michael who's determined on a final showdown, not me."

"It doesn't matter," Sam retorted. "It's results that matter, not intent. I've learned that lesson better than anyone."

"Oh I agree," Lucifer said lazily, and made an idle gesture. Suddenly, Sam was in the backseat and Lucifer was pressed up alongside him. He smiled again, a sultry smile full of promise and desire. "So help me. We take out my big brother, and all our wishes can come true. I get to go home. Dean gets to live out his picket fence fantasies with Castiel, and I spend the rest of eternity making you happy."

"But…" Sam began to object and Lucifer place one cold finger against his lips.

"You think you're falling for Gabriel? I know. I also know that he doesn't want you, does he Sam? Oh you're a nice piece of ass but he's never offered you more than wham bam thank you ma'am? Has he?"

"No," Sam whispered against Lucifer's finger. He shivered in response to the chill and to Lucifer's words.

"So, give me a chance," the Devil suggested. "Let me show you how utterly incredible our love could be."  
"No," Sam said again. "I don't want you inside me." He flushed at the unintended double entendre. Lucifer's grin was savage.

"I think you do," he said. "But I'll be generous. I'm not asking for you to allow me to possess you, yet. Just let me make love to you and show you that I really am not all I am painted to be. Make your decision with open eyes."

"I don't know," Sam said desperately. He couldn't deny the pull of attraction towards Lucifer, even knowing what he was. Same old story his entire adult life. Whether he liked it or not, he was drawn to monstrous things. Perhaps he really was a monster too.

"No, Sam, you're not a monster," Lucifer said. "I swear it."

"I-" Lucifer leaned forward and pressed his lips to Sam's. He kissed the hunter, gentle and sweet and Sam groaned. Lucifer's lips were soft, and even the strange, cool temperature seemed to heat his blood. Without prompting, he opened his mouth and tugged the fallen archangel closer. Lucifer tightened his arms around Sam, and plundered his mouth. There was no denying the lust Sam could feel coming from Lucifer as he allowed him to lie him on his back and begin removing his shirt.

"Oh," he breathed. "Oh, God." Lucifer transferred his mouth to Sam's neck and Sam lifted his head in supplication.

"My beautiful Sam," Lucifer muttered against his skin. He licked and nipped his way down across Sam's chest, his clever fingers working on the fastening of Sam's jeans. Sam's hips bucked and Lucifer took advantage, slipping his hands inside and grasping Sam tightly.

"Uh," Sam said intelligently, utterly lost to the swirling desire and pounding heat within. "Lucifer!"

"Yes, Sam, I know." Lucifer soothed. He'd managed to pull Sam's jeans and underwear off and was now fiddling with his own. Sam bit down on the chords of Lucifer's neck and the archangel growled with pleasure. Sam wasn't sure how it had happened, but Lucifer had managed to get between his legs and was pressing urgently against him. He'd barely shoved his own clothing out of the way but Sam didn't care. He bucked his hips again.

"Now," he grunted.

"You want me to fuck you, Sammy?" Lucifer said breathlessly.

"Do it," Sam said.

"Say it," Lucifer purred. Sam froze. "Tell me you want me to fuck you, Sam." He relaxed, this wasn't a trick to make him say yes.

"Fuck me," he begged. Lucifer surged forward and Sam choked at the feeling of being penetrated. "Fuck."

"Yes, Sam," Lucifer agreed, driving into Sam over and over again. The pace was punishing, Lucifer was like a wild thing, hissing as Sam arched beneath him, pleasure and need winding him tight. He felt Lucifer stiffen and then claim his mouth again as he crested and that was enough to send Sam tumbling over the edge.

"I love you, Sam," Lucifer huffed in his ear.

Sam swallowed, the full enormity of what he'd just done crashing over him like a wave. He struggled to hold back the tears that pooled unbidden in his eyes.

"Shh…" Lucifer comforted. "It's OK. It can be a bit overwhelming, I know." Sam turned to see Lucifer's face, eyes red and moisture on his face. "I feel it too." He clasped Sam tightly to his breast and the dam broke. Sam sobbed onto Lucifer's shoulder, heartbreak and confusion swamping him utterly.

* * *

Cas flew as fast as he could. The sooner he found Gabriel, the sooner they could fix the mess he'd just made of his relationship with Sam. But Gabriel was nowhere to be found in any of the obvious places and Cas was at his wits end. After considering all the options, he made a decision and headed for Crowley's house.

"Castiel!" Crowley said expansively when he arrived. "Tell me you've news of Balthazar."

"What?" Cas said distractedly. He'd forgotten all about the angel's mission. "No, Crowley, I'm sorry. We've heard nothing."

"Shit," Crowley said with feeling. "So why are you here?"

"I gave Gabriel some shocking news and he… disappeared," Cas said uncomfortably. "And now I can't find him. It's urgent that I locate him and stop him from doing something he can't undo."

Crowley eyed him balefully. "And what do I get out of it?"

"I'll go look for Balthazar myself, if you'll help me," Cas said. Crowley blinked in surprise.

"All right. I don't know how much use it is, but I used an old Norse summoning ritual to find him last time," he said. "I don't know how much power it truly has over him, but it might be unusual enough to catch his attention at least."

Cas considered it. "Do it."

Crowley nodded and opened a few drawers in his desk, collecting components and muttering under his breath. "I see you've regained your Grace," he observed.

"Yes," Cas said shortly.

"OK," Crowley said. Apparently the angel wasn't going to explain it right now. He laid out the spell ingredients and drew the summoning circle. He took a deep breath and began to chant. Nothing happened. Crowley frowned and added some additional ingredients to the brass bowl and repeated the chant. But there was still nothing. He turned to Cas and gave him a helpless look.

"Either he can't answer or he doesn't want to," Crowley said. "There's nothing more I can do."

Cas shook his head, looking more weary than Crowley had ever seen him. "It's OK. Thank you. I will be in touch when I have news of Balthazar." And with that, he disappeared. Crowley pursed his lips in thought.

* * *

Dean left the restroom and headed into the small convenience store. He picked up chips, pie and soda and dumped them all on the counter. The surly teenage girl began slowly ringing up his items and he turned his head to look out of the window. The windows of the Impala had steamed up and he frowned. It wasn't that cold a day and Sam was sleeping.

"Twenty-two, thirty-eight," the clerk said.

That wasn't steam, he realized. It was frost. Alarm surged through him and he shoved money at the girl, grabbed the bag and dashed out the door. As soon as he reached the passenger side, he yanked the door open hard and Sam tumbled out onto the ground with a yelp.

"Dude, what the Hell?" he said grumpily from the ground.

"Sammy?"

Sam struggled to his feet and Dean noticed his face was wet.

"Sam are you OK?"

"What?" Sam said, looking disoriented. "What's going on?"

Dean breathed a sigh of relief. "Sorry, Sam. I guess I panicked. The car looked all steamed up or frosted over or I don't know…" he trailed off at the sight of the clear, unfogged windows. "Uh, maybe it was the sun, I dunno. I'm sorry, man."

"It's OK," Sam said. He wasn't meeting Dean's eyes and discomfort wormed itself through Dean's gut.

"You sure?" he said, grabbing Sam's wrist. The skin that emerged from his sleeve was icy cold. "Dude, you're freezing."

Sam looked down at his hand and then shook his brother off. "Yeah. It's fine. Don't worry about it." He looked around. "Are we close to Bobby's?"

"Another three hours," Dean promised. "Maybe two and a half if I put my foot down."

Sam nodded and climbed back into the car. Dean just stared, a weird sense of unreality making him feel nauseous. Sam had been distant and vague, like he almost wasn't there. He walked around to the driver's side and opened the back door to toss the snacks in. As he did so, he noticed a faint but distinctive musky odor. He wrinkled his nose in confusion, thoroughly weirded out. The car smelled of sex and this would normally have led to some grumbling at Sam but none of it made sense. He couldn't have been in the restroom and store for more than ten minutes. How did Sam have time to find someone and get laid and get back in the front seat without him noticing anything amiss besides a fogged up window? And the idea Sam would just climb in the backseat for a quick jerk just wasn't the sort of thing his brother did. Was he having the dreams again? Something told him not to bring it up. He couldn't explain it, just a sense that maybe he needed to let this one lie. So he twitched and closed the door, climbed into the driver's seat and pulled away.

* * *

The teenage clerk watched the car leave and then spat out her gum into the nearby trashcan.

"They've gone," she called out. The red haired man hiding in the storeroom stepped out and smiled at her.

"Well done," he said. "That was a neat bit of spellwork." She grinned at him.

"Well, it's not everyday that Satan walks into your life," she said. "I mean, don't get me wrong, but I wasn't even sure you were real."

"Oh I'm real," Lugh said.

"So, explain to me why you wanted to send that guy into a trance anyway?" she said.

"I needed time with his brother in the car." Lugh said idly.

"Oh," she said, looking interested. "Cool."

"Cool indeed. And now, your reward." He handed over the amulet he'd dangled in front of her eyes when he'd asked for her help. It wasn't all that powerful a protection charm, but it would work better than the hex bags she was using to hide from hunters and other, more powerful witches. She smiled gratefully at him and he nodded to her and sauntered out of the store.

* * *

Cas appeared suddenly in the middle of Bobby's living room, and the old hunter nearly expired on the spot.

"Jesus, boy. Give an old man a heart attack, why don't you?"

"Where's Dean?" Cas said.

"What? Oh, not here yet," Bobby told him. "I heard you got your wings back."

"Yes," Cas agreed. "But Dean should be here by now. I don't understand."

"Call him," Bobby suggested. "Maybe they got delayed." In truth, he was getting a little concerned himself. Cas was right, it should have taken no more than six hours to drive from the motel north of Carthage, and they'd supposedly left at 10am that morning. Even if they'd stopped for a leisurely breakfast and lunch, it made no sense. Cas took his phone from his pocket and dialed Dean's number.

"Hey, Cas!" Dean answered, sounding delighted but strained. Cas frowned.

"Dean, where are you?"

"Uh, about ninety minutes away," he said.

"Is everything all right?" Cas pressed. There was silence and Cas's sense of foreboding began to grow. "Dean?"

"Uh. Yeah. We'll be there soon." He hung up and Cas stared at his phone as if it had betrayed him.

"So?" Bobby prompted.

"They're ninety minutes away," Cas repeated. "Bobby, something's wrong."

"What?"

"I don't know. You know I am not a good reader of human emotions. But Dean seemed… strange."

"Describe what you heard," Bobby said.

Cas did his best, trying to explain the toneless way Dean had been talking and his odd, short answers and bizarre silences.

"He's probably just worried about Sam," Bobby decided. "Dean told me last night on the phone about Gabriel."

"Perhaps," Cas said. He opened his mouth to say more but a sudden crash from the kitchen had him whirling around. Bobby grabbed his shotgun and they dashed for the door.

A familiar figure was standing unsteadily by the fridge.

"Balthazar?" Cas said as the angel staggered and collapsed into a chair. "Are you all right?"

"Not really," Balthazar said heavily. "Look, I probably shouldn't stay here too long. I have the list."

"This building is shielded from angels, except for me, you and Gabriel," Cas told him. "You should be safe here for a while at least."

"What did it feel like?" Balthazar asked suddenly. Cas blinked at him. "Falling, I mean."

"I…" Cas opened his mouth but felt as though his throat was closing. "I felt… It's hard to explain. Imagine the entire world was ending, and all the pain of it was being dragged through you."

"Castiel," Balthazar breathed. "How did you survive?"

"Dean," Cas said simply. "I had to hold onto the fact that Dean would be here for me no matter what."

"Are you in love with him?" The blond was watching him intensely.

"Yes," Cas confessed. Bobby grumbled about about the Hallmark Channel being broadcast from his kitchen. The angels ignored him.

"Which came first?" Balthazar pressed. "The Fall or the falling in love?"

Tears shimmered in Cas's eyes. "Love," he said brokenly. "I never would have Fallen otherwise."

"You regret it?"

"Never," Cas said, shaking his head emphatically. He peered at Balthazar and what he saw there made him gasp.

"So it's true?" he said wonderingly. "This demon has stolen your heart?"

"Bah," Balthazar said, pushing away from the table and leaning the chair back on its rear legs. "Who talks like that?"

"I do," Cas said firmly. "Now answer the question."

"All right," Balthazar said dramatically. "Yes. It's stupid and dangerous and there's zero chance he can return my feelings but yes, I'm in love with Crowley. Satisfied?"

"You've chosen a hard road, brother," Cas said sympathetically. "Harder than mine, even."

"Yeah, well, the heart wants what it wants, isn't that what they say?"

"Yes," Cas said faintly.

"So, the execution list," the blond said, tossing a few sheets of parchment onto the kitchen table. "Now where is Gabriel? I'm giving this thing to you and then I am fucking out of here." Cas picked up the pages and began looking through them, his face increasingly disturbed.

"Gabriel's not here," Cas said. "And Crowley's going out of his mind with worry about you. He's sent me at least a dozen text messages." He pulled out his phone and showed the messages to Balthazar.

A broad smile spread across the blond angel's face. "I have to go talk to him. And then figure out what to do." He gave Cas a significant look.

"Balthazar, some of the names on this list…" Cas shivered in distress.

"Anyone we know?" Bobby asked.

"Zachariah," Cas said, his face pale.

"Good," Bobby said. "Serves the sanctimonious prick right."

"No," Cas said, shaking his head. "Don't you understand? If Zachariah can be summarily added to an execution list then nobody is safe. Nobody."

* * *

When Dean finally pulled into Bobby's Salvage Yard, he was astonished to see Cas come flying out of the house and wrench the door almost off his hinges, dragging Dean into a tight embrace.

"Hey!" he said, surprised. "Cas? Are you OK?"

"No," the angel said, quivering. He was hugging the hunter so tightly Dean could scarcely breathe.

"Hey, Cas," he wheezed. "Ease up a bit, will you?"

"Sorry," the angel said. Sam climbed out and Cas turned his head slowly to look at him. His eyes widened. Sam glared coldly at him.

"Sam?" Cas said, his voice squeaking unnaturally.

"Hey, Cas," Sam said coolly.

Cas turned his gaze back to Dean, who was giving him a puzzled look. And then he slowly, almost painfully returned to Sam.

"Sam… What happened?"

"Nothing," Sam said icily. He closed the car door and headed for the house. Cas watched him walk away.

"Balthazar is here," he said, although his mind was still caught on Sam's odd demeanor.

"Oh," Dean said. "I'd almost forgotten about him." Cas turned and steered Dean towards the house. Bobby met them at the door.

"Balthazar's leaving," he said. "Crowley's gonna look after him at his fancy plantation house."

"OK," Cas said. "Where's Sam?"

"In the kitchen, talking to Balthazar," Bobby said. Cas nodded and led Dean into the kitchen. Bobby brought up the rear. Sam was sat at the table reading the list and Balthazar was pointing to one of the names.

"I need a beer," Bobby said to nobody in particular and made for the fridge. "Dean?"

"Thanks," Dean said and accepted the proffered bottle.

"Sam?"

"I'm fine," Sam said. He looked up at Dean and there was a strange expression on his face. "Dean, Zachariah's on this list."

"Douchebag," Dean retorted. "Serves him right."

"That's what I said," Bobby chimed in

"Really?" Sam said. "You don't think it's even slightly worrying that Zachariah could go from head of the committee to top of the execution list in the blink of an eye?"

Dean stared at him. "OK," he said. "I get it. I'm sorry. Who else is on there?"

"Nobody you'd know," Cas said sorrowfully. "Except me of course."

"What? What do you mean, you?"

"I am a Fallen angel," Cas said mildly. "Some might consider just that fact alone reason enough. And if other angels are ripping out their Grace in order to escape Heaven, killing the angel who started it all might seem like justice."

"You didn't start this," Dean snapped. "You were as good and loyal a soldier as anyone could ask for. They started this. They took your loyalty and they abused it for their own ends. Hell, you could even blame me if you wanted to."

"No!" Cas exclaimed. "I have never blamed you." He moved closer to Dean, pressing their bodies together. "I…"

"Hey, it's OK," Dean soothed.

"There's something else," Balthazar said. All eyes in the room swivelled round to stare at him. "A letter from Lucifer to M-" He bit his lip. "My brother."

"They're writing letters to each other now?" Dean said incredulously.

"They have for a while if the contents of this one are anything to go by," Balthazar shrugged. He held it out for Dean to examine.

"This is written in Enochian," Dean growled.

"That's not my fault," Balthazar said sulkily. "I'm leaving now. Don't bother asking me for anything else. I'm done."

"Fair enough. Crowley should be able to keep you safe," Dean said. "But call if you're in trouble, OK?" Balthazar nodded and then was gone in a flurry of feathers.

"That was nice of you," Cas said in his ear.

"Yeah," Dean said tiredly. "So, you gonna read this letter to us?"

"Of course," Cas said, taking it from Dean's hand. He glanced at it and frowned. "Brother, I'm sorry it's taken so long to respond to your last missive. Zachariah was so utterly wretched it quite turned my stomach. He is not a very convincing liar. I'm begging you - please stop interfering with my vessel. I'm quite capable of dealing with him myself. I have not inserted myself into your affairs despite your accusations and I would appreciate the same courtesy. Be well. Lucifer."

"Weird," Dean commented. "Have you had any contact with uh… You Know Who?"

Sam shook his head. "Not as far as I know." He gave a bitter laugh. "He's one of the few players in this game who hasn't tried to do something to me actually."

"Do you think it's important?" Bobby asked.

"I don't know," Sam sighed. His face was pale and there were dark circles under his eyes.

Dean scratched at his stubble. "Maybe we can think about it tomorrow. I'm gonna hit the hay. You coming?" He held out his hand, giving Cas an unusually shy smile. Cas reached out and clasped his lover's outstretched hand and let himself be drawn upstairs.

Bobby tugged at his beard and regarded Sam for a moment. "How are you holding up?" he said.

"Fine," Sam said shortly.

"Dean told me about Gabriel. I'm sorry, boy."

Sam looked irritated. "It's fine. Really. He never promised me anything."

"Doesn't make it hurt less if you felt more," the old hunter said sagely.

Sam gave him a crooked smile. "I'll survive. It's not the worst thing to ever happen to me. It's not even the worst thing this week." He got up and left the room, leaving Bobby alone with his thoughts.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning - some discussion of sexual assault in this chapter.

Snuggled up on Cas's chest, Dean could feel the tension vibrating within the angel. "Cas? What's up?"

"Dean, has Sam talked to you about his dreams recently?" Cas said, his voice rumbling in Dean's ear.

"What? No. I thought Gabriel was dealing with that."

"Gabriel's not here," Cas pointed out.

"Sam hasn't said anything," Dean said. "Cas, you're scaring me."

Cas closed his eyes, fear pulsing in his chest. "Is there any chance Lucifer could have intercepted you?"

"Intercepted? You mean like, for real? In person? No. We only stopped twice, once for gas and once for food."

"Did you let Sam out of your sight, at all?"

"The second stop. I went to the restroom. But I wasn't gone long. Except…"

"Except…" Cas prompted.

"When I was in the store, I thought I saw the windows of the car all fogged up. But when I opened Sam's door, it was gone."

Cas let go of him and turned over to face him. "What else?" he said urgently.

"Dude," Dean protested.

"Dean, this is important."

"OK, OK. The car smelled like… you know?" Dean said uncomfortably. Cas looked puzzled. "Like sex, man."

"Sex." Cas said. His face was utterly blank and Dean's world tilted dizzily.

"Cas, did Lucifer seduced my brother in the back of the car in the ten minutes I was gone?"

"Sam's vulnerable right now and like it or not, Lucifer has been able to get under his skin," Cas reminded him.

"Jesus," Dean said. " _Jesus._ " His breathing was getting faster and shallower and Cas grabbed his face in alarm.

"Dean," he said, trying to catch the hunter's wildly swiveling eyes. "Dean, listen to me. You're having a panic attack. Try to concentrate on my voice. Listen to me. Just breathe. Breathe." He rubbed one hand soothingly down Dean's arm. "Just breathe."

After a moment, the panic began to leach out of Dean's body and his respiration returned to normal.

"We need to talk to Sam," Dean said.

"That may not be so easy," Cas replied. "Let's leave it until the morning. He didn't seem very receptive to conversation this evening."

"I dunno, man. What if…"

"We're safe here," Cas said. "Bobby's warded the place well. Lucifer can't do anything else tonight."

* * *

The next morning Dean awoke alone. He could hear the house shifting and strained his ears trying to hear anything else. When he was greeted by only silence he quietly slipped out of bed and pulled on some pants, before cautiously descending the stairs. He was surprised to find Cas and Gabriel sitting at the kitchen table glaring at each other.

"You're back," he said.

"It's observational skills like that that make you the hunter you are," Gabriel said acidly.

"Nice," Dean said. He ambled over to the coffee machine and began cleaning it out.

"Dean, do you want to tell Gabriel about yesterday?" Cas said. Dean turned around, his face gray.

"Not really. You can do it, if you want." He turned back to his task, his shoulder blades itching where Gabriel's gaze was burning a hole into him.

He heard Cas begin speaking rapidly in Enochian and sent a prayer of thanks to his beloved. He really didn't want to have to think about this any more. But when he finally finished making the coffee and could not put off turning around, he was disturbed by the scene in front of him.

Cas was still talking, his hand on Gabriel's arm. Gabriel was scrunched into a ball, and rocking back and forth. His head was on his knees and his shoulders were hitching. Was the archangel crying? Dean swallowed.

Cas looked up. "I think we need to talk to Sam now."

Dean sighed and put his cup on the table. "I'll go wake him up," he said reluctantly.

Sam was sprawled out on the couch, his arms and legs flung out at all angles. Dean approached him hesitantly.

"Hey, Sammy?" he said. Sam groaned. "Sam, uh, Gabriel's here. He's in the kitchen-" He wasn't prepared for Sam's reaction. He leapt off the couch, his eyes wild and ran for the front door. "No, Sam, wait…" Cursing, he shoved his boots on and ran out after his brother, who'd fled into the piles of junkers.

It took him about ten minutes to find Sam, hunched over and breathing hard.

"Sam?"

"You have to send him away," Sam hissed.

"What's going on?" Dean growled.

"He can't see me, not like this. Send him away. Give him an excuse. I don't care. Just make sure he doesn't see me!"

"Why not, Sam?" Gabriel's voice said coolly from behind Dean. The hunter almost swallowed his tongue. Sam just stayed where he was, his ragged breathing echoing off the piles of cars all around him. Dean felt Gabriel's hand on his shoulder. "Why don't you go back to the house?"

"Look, the last thing I want to do is play third wheel," Dean said. "But you can't expect me to leave you alone with Sam after that little display."

Gabriel squeezed his shoulder, the bones creaking and Dean yelped in pain. "Stay if you want. But you might wish you'd left," he said. And then his hand was gone and he stepped around Dean and towards Sam.

"Don't come any closer," Sam huffed out.

"Something you want to tell me, Sam?" Gabriel said, his tone still cool and even.

"No."

"Are you sure?" Gabriel pressed. Sam looked up and Dean stepped back in shock at how ravaged his face was. Sam nodded, his hair swinging in damp strands around his face.

"OK," Gabriel said, in that same creepy, level voice. "How about I tell you instead?"

"No," Sam whispered.

"After all," Gabriel said, his eyes boring into Sam. "It's not like we'd made any promises to each other, is it? You were a free agent."

"Gabriel, I…"

"We were just keeping this a casual thing," Gabriel continued relentlessly. "Neither of us wanted to be tied down."

Sam looked down at the ground.

"So, Sam, why don't you tell us who fucked you in the back of Dean's car? Hmm?"

Dean's felt the blood drain out of his face. He swayed and suddenly realized that maybe he should have left. But his feet were rooted to the ground. He didn't know if that was Gabriel's doing or his own horror.

"Gabriel." Cas had suddenly appeared behind Sam. Dean almost collapsed with relief. Surely Cas could defuse this archangel timebomb.

"Hello, Cas. You've joined us at the crucial moment. Sam here was just about to tell us about his latest sexual conquest."

"Gabriel, this isn't helping. Look at him."

"Say it, Sam," Gabriel commanded, a sliver of his True Voice overlaying his normal tone. Cas's eyes widened in shock.

"Lucifer," Sam said robotically. Dean felt the ground shift beneath his feet and his stomach roiled. He staggered backwards and vomited noisily on the door of an old Chevy.

"Lucifer!" Gabriel said with faux brightness. "How was it Sam? Was it good?"

Sam just stood there, shivering.

" _Gabriel_ ," Cas said urgently. "Please, brother."

"Oh, no," Gabriel said viciously. "I want  _all_  the juicy details."

Dean struggled between the urge to defend his brother and the desire to run, far, far away.

"Sam," Gabriel demanded. "Tell me."

Slowly, tonelessly, Sam began to describe the encounter. Dean wanted to die rather than have to listen to this. But still he couldn't move.

"Sam, stop," Cas said. "Gabriel, don't do this." There was a metallic sound as Gabriel's blade slid into his hand.

"Castiel, go back to the house. You too, Dean. I will deal with Sam." Dean felt his feet moving of their own accord and he looked helplessly at Cas, who was struggling against a similar compunction. But neither of them could fight an archangel at full strength.

Once they'd left, Gabriel turned his attention back to Sam, who had dropped to his knees and was shuddering uncontrollably.

"So, Sam," he said. "Lucifer just crooked his finger and you spread your legs for him. Why, Sam?"

"You didn't want me," Sam said quietly. "He does."

"That's it?" Gabriel said incredulously. He stepped forward involuntarily and then stopped himself. "That's all it takes?"

Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "So what are you going to do?"

Gabriel regarded him silently. "I don't know, Sam. I…" He peered at Sam and then made a sharp intake of breath.

"Sam, are you sure it was Lucifer?" he said, a horrible suspicion beginning to form in his mind.

Sam raised his head and blinked away the tears that were pooling. "What? Of course I'm…" he broke off. "Actually, I… No. No, I'm not." His hands began to shake. "You think it was someone else?"

"Sam, I can't detect any sign of Lucifer's Grace on you," Gabriel told him. "But I can feel witchcraft and the magic of the Tuatha de Danaan."

Sam went rigid with shock and horror as Gabriel's meaning filtered through his mind. "You think this was Lugh…" He gulped down air, lights flashing in front of his eyes. "Oh, God, I didn't think this could get any worse." His sense of violation only added to his panic and distress.

"You're not going to kill me," Sam continued, his voice cracking. "You don't need an angel blade for that. And you're not going to complete the bond. So, how do we fix it? How do we undo what Lugh has done?"

'Is that what you want?" Gabriel said softly.

"I don't know," Sam replied. "I've screwed up so badly this time, it makes the mess with Ruby look like a tea party. I'm sorry, Gabriel."

"It's not your fault," the archangel said with a sigh, sliding his blade back out of sight and dropping down to sit on the filthy ground beside Sam. "Lugh is very hard to resist, and he manipulated your connection to Lucifer and to me. I know what he's capable of. I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

"I feel violated," Sam confessed in a low voice. "Raped."

Gabriel placed a hand on his shoulder and Sam heard him swallow hard. "Yes. I'm sorry, Sam. I promised I would protect you and I failed."

"Why couldn't I say no?" Sam said brokenly. He began to sob and Gabriel wanted to join in. "Even if it was only an illusion of Lucifer, I believed it was him and I didn't want him. I've never wanted him. But I couldn't say no."

"Lugh is a master of manipulation. And he's not above straight up mind-control when the mood takes him," Gabriel said, sorrow throbbing in his throat.

"I should have guessed," Sam wept. "I should have realized something was wrong when he didn't seem that interested in me saying yes to him." Gabriel slid one arm across his shoulders and tucked Sam into his body. Gabriel rubbed soothing circles on his back as he waited for his hunter to regain his presence of mind. Now that his anger had ebbed and had found it's real target, he was rather embarrassed. He'd treated Sam rather badly over the last few days and he was ashamed of himself.

"Do you feel up to going inside?" he asked tentatively. Sam nodded and Gabriel got up before helping the hunter to his feet. His face was pale and his eyes were red.

"We need to talk some more," Gabriel said and Sam swayed alarmingly. "No, it's OK. Don't worry. It's just… well, we left things in an awkward place." Sam opened his mouth to speak but Gabriel interrupted him. "No, I left things in an awkward place. We have to talk about this forced bonding, Sam. But it's not urgent. Not yet. Let's leave it for now and deal with the more pressing problems, OK?"

"OK," Sam agreed faintly. He began to trudge towards the house and Gabriel followed in his wake, chewing at his lip. The truth was, he didn't have the slightest clue what to do about Lugh's nasty little scheme. Cas's idea of blocking Lucifer from using Sam by completing the bonding wasn't totally insane, were Sam an angel. But as a human, Sam's lifespan was limited.  _Not human,_  his brain said helpfully.  _Not fully. Not anymore._  No, Sam didn't quite qualify as human anymore but he was still mortal. And in a line of work that did not lengthen his life expectancy. Gabriel wasn't sure he wanted to bond with someone who would age and die, within a period of time so short… He'd almost done it, once before with a human and look where that had gotten him. Lucifer had gotten to Judas, and in worse ways than just sex. He shook his head, pushing the memories away.

* * *

The man sitting at the bar did not look well. His long, drawn face was pale and his nose streamed constantly. Every so often he would sneeze without covering his mouth and nose, and mucus would fly everywhere. It was disgusting.

"Sir, you really need to use a handkerchief," Bethany told him as she refilled his glass.

"Yes," the man said absently. He looked around the bar, which was almost empty. "Tell me, does it get any busier than this?"

"In the evenings, sure," she replied. "Especially Friday night. But it's Tuesday afternoon, most folks are at work. We do enough passing trade that it's worth opening, at least that what Bud says. But no, it's usually pretty quiet during the day."

"I see," the man said. He gave her a smile. "I'm waiting for a friend."

"OK," she said hesitantly. "Is he a local?"

"Oh no," the man replied. "He's coming from a great distance away." He leaned back to look out of the half-open door. "Ah, here he is now."

Bethany couldn't help but gape at the frail old man in the electric wheelchair as he entered, his face twisted with malevolence and contempt. Three men and one woman, all in black suits followed him in. He gave a wan smile to the man at the bar and then turned his wheelchair to one of the tables near the back. Her customer raised his drink to her and then slid off the stool and followed his friend. She crinkled her nose in distaste and began wiping down the bar. The suits exchanged glances and then turned and left.

"Famine," Pestilence said warmly. "It's been too long."

"Faugh," Famine said haughtily. "I've no time for your sycophancy. Did you hear what happened to War? And where is Death?"

"War? Yes, I heard," Pestilence sniffled. "And I've no idea where Death is. Lucifer said he had bound him, but that Death was resisting somehow."

"He always was difficult," Famine wheezed.

"Me, I'm almost ready to go. Another few weeks and the tainted vaccine will be ready. How about you? I thought you had a plan."

"I did," Famine said bitterly. "Something went wrong. My power seems to be… fading. I can't understand it. Take this bar!" He rotated the ring on his finger. Pestilence looked around at the few customers. None were eating or looked like they hungered for anything. The raddled old drunk at the end of the bar actually pushed his glass away untouched. He stared back at Famine in horror.

"How long has this been going on?"

"Several weeks," Famine lisped. "Ever since War bit the dust."

"Do you think it's related? We've never had one of us die while in active service before." Pestilence sneezed and wiped his nose with the back of his hand.

"I don't know," Famine snapped. "All I know is, I'm hungry but my ability to project that hunger has gone away. If I can't actually inflict famine on anyone, who am I?"

"All right," Pestilence said testily. "No need to have an existential crisis. I'll call Lucifer, see what he knows."

* * *

Dean watched warily as Sam dragged himself through the door and then slouched into a chair. He pushed a glass towards his brother, two fingers of Bobby's finest gutrot already poured into it. Sam grabbed it gratefully and downed the whole lot in one quick swallow. Gabriel appeared in the doorway and Dean froze. But the archangel's face was sad, not angry and when nothing exploded or caught fire, he figured they were safe enough. Cas, who had been sitting quietly beside him, stood up.

"Gabriel, I see you've calmed down," he said. He sounded pissed, Dean thought, and who could blame him?

"Castiel, I owe you an apology," Gabriel said. "You too, Dean." Dean blinked with surprise. The Messenger of God was apologizing to him? "I guess I overreacted."

"It's understandable," Dean said carefully. "I mean, nobody likes being tricked and well…" He looked over at Sam guiltily. "I guess I'm partly to blame here too."

"How?" Sam said, breaking his silence suddenly. "How is any of this your fault?"

Dean gave an easy shrug. "Looking after you is my job."

"You couldn't have done anything against Lugh," Sam said heavily.

"Wait, what?" Dean said.

"It wasn't Lucifer, at the gas station," Sam muttered, his gaze firmly fixed on the floor. "Lugh tricked me into thinking he was Lucifer."

Dean grabbed his head and groaned. "I don't think I can take much more of this," he complained.

"Stop the bellyaching and figure out how we move forward," Bobby growled. "We're still on the Apocalypse train, remember?"

"I have a partial solution to that," Cas volunteered. "I've asked Dean to bond with me. That bonding will protect him from Michael's possession forever."

"What if he kills you for it, brother?" Gabriel said.

"He can't," Cas said simply. "Killing a bonded angel is forbidden, you know that."

"Killing angels is generally forbidden," Gabriel reminded him. "It hasn't prevented him writing an execution list."

Bobby tossed a Snickers bar at his head but he caught it easily. "Thank God somebody here is thinking straight," he commented. "You can't rely on rules and laws to protect you, boy. Your brother's well and truly checked out of the Motel Sanity."

"I refuse to believe that," Cas said loyally. "Michael is rigid and perhaps not very warm. But he's not evil. He's just lost his way, that's all."

"Yeah?" Bobby said, getting to his feet. "And at what point do you decide he has gone over the line? When he kills the first angel on that list? When he or his agents have slaughtered everyone?"

"Bobby," Dean said quellingly. "Cas is…"

"He's a idjit, is what he is, if he thinks that his brother can be brought back from this brink!" Bobby shouted, slamming a hand into Balthazar's purloined manuscript. "It's gone too far already!"

"Bobby," Sam said gently, and the grizzled old hunter looked down at him. "Please." He grumbled but sat down.

"Castiel, the law says no bonded angel may be executed," Gabriel said, his mind racing. "But bonding with a human is forbidden. That modification was brought in after the whole Nephilim debacle."

"I don't think there's much risk of that with us," Dean said humorlessly. Gabriel laughed at him, but it was a brittle sound. Cas made a sharp intake of breath.

"The Canaanite Accords," he breathed.

"Exactly," Gabriel said.

"What are those?" Dean asked.

"It was after the war with the Nephilim," Gabriel said. "The laws were rewritten, to prevent angel-human bonding and we were instructed to reduce our presence on earth. Fewer interactions with humans meant less opportunity for temptation. But the Accords also included some exceptions. An angel could still bond with a human where there was no possibility of issue and it was deemed necessary to prevent some greater evil. And if done so under the Accords, such a bond cannot be broken without breaking the Accords themselves."

"So?" Dean said. "What difference does that make?"

"If the Accords are broken, the breaker is stripped of any and all leadership, power and authority. In other words, Michael gets busted all the way down… to cherub probably. And it's enforced with Dad's own seal, his power." Gabriel stared at Castiel. "Why didn't I think of this before?"

"Because," Cas said seriously, "You were too busy being mad that Lugh tricked you."

Gabriel winced but acknowledged his brother's point. "I still don't think it gets you completely off the hook. Michael still has another option for vessel, albeit an imperfect one."

"Adam," Dean said, his voice heavy with pain. "Last time, Michael brought him back to life to serve as his vessel after I told him to go to Hell too many times."

Sam couldn't look at Gabriel. He knew what the answer was, for this plan to work both he and Dean would have to bond with their angels. He swallowed, unsure if Gabriel was even his anymore. Had ever been his, in fact. He dropped his gaze to the table.

"I think we need to have that chat, now," Gabriel said almost inaudibly in his ear.

Sam took a deep breath. "I guess we do."

Dean exchanged a look with Cas and Bobby. "How about we give you guys some space?" he suggested.


	15. Chapter 15

Sam heard the footsteps of his brother, Cas and Bobby leave the kitchen. He really did not want to do this. Not here, not now. But once again, his hand was being forced.

"We can go somewhere else," Gabriel said, one hand on his arm.

"No," Sam denied. "It's better if we don't draw attention to ourselves. Michael's spies will be out there. Nobody in Heaven knows you're alive and I'd like to keep it that way for a while longer."

"OK," Gabriel said. "So… I'm not sure where to begin."

"Look, it's OK," Sam said. "I understand, you know. Of course you don't want to bond with me. Even if I wasn't a demon-blood addicted freak, true vessel of Lucifer himself and all-around fuck-up, I can't imagine being tied down is something you'd want."

"Firstly," Gabriel said in a soft, menacing voice. "Did I not tell you once to  _never_  presume to know what I am, or what I want?" Sam nodded mutely, his eyes wide. "And secondly, talk about yourself like that again and I  _will_ take steps, do you understand me?" Sam's eyes widened further. "Don't be ridiculous," Gabriel said at the look of terror. "I wouldn't hurt you. But I might render you speechless for a week, if I was especially mad."

Sam just stared at him. Gabriel leaned in and kissed him, softly. "Now, let's start again," he said.

"What do you want to do?" Sam asked and Gabriel smiled at him approvingly.

"That's better. Ideally, no, I wouldn't bond with you, Sam." Sam tried to keep the pain that pronouncement gave him off his face but apparently he didn't do a very good job. "It's not fair on you. You're being forced into an indissoluble bond, by circumstance and desperation. It's not how I would want things to be between us."

"It's OK," Sam whispered. "I mean, you're right. But I want it anyway."

"Are you sure?" Gabriel said, giving him a penetrating look. "Or are you just so afraid of Luci, you'll do anything to get away?"

Sam looked away, guilt and shame threatening to choke him. "I…"

"Look, Sam, Castiel and Dean are gonna do this thing. They're in love and they'd be bonding regardless of whether it would help in this fight. But I love you too much to allow you to do this with me if you're not completely sure."

"You love me?" Sam stuttered, his heart skipping painfully in his chest.

"Uh," Gabriel said, looking mortified. "Don't read too much into it. I only meant it in a general way."

Sam pushed away from the table and stood up. He rubbed his hands over his face. "What does that even mean? I need the truth, Gabriel."

"Well, uh, I was talking about a sort of love for all humanity kind of way?" the archangel offered uncertainly.

"Nice," Sam said acidly. "I think we're done here. You don't want to bond with me, that's OK. I'm certainly not going to bond with someone who doesn't love me, not even to protect myself from Lucifer. I don't hate myself quite that much."

"Sam-"

Sam cut him off with a slashing motion of his hand. "No, really, it's fine. Maybe blocking Michael will be enough. We just have to figure out a way to stop Lucifer getting to me. And if we can fix what Lugh did too, that'll be a bonus."

"But Sam-"

"How do we do that, anyway?" Sam continued briskly. "Can a partial bonding be broken?"

Gabriel gave up. "Yes. There are three ways. Two are out of the question, but the third might work."

"Tell me all of them anyway."

"One, binding to another angel," Gabriel said tightly, counting off on his fingers. "Two, death of one of the pair before completing the bond, and three," he hesitated.

"Go on," Sam said.

"Bonding is an angel-angel or angel-human thing," Gabriel said. "But if the angel were to Fall, boom, no more bond."

Sam staggered backwards. "And which of those three do you consider acceptable?" he said in a voice so low even Gabriel's celestial hearing could scarcely hear it.

"Well, I don't want to die, and killing you is out of the question," the archangel said in a monotone. "You're free of course to bind to another angel, but the only one interested right now is dear old Luci, so I don't think that's a very viable alternative. Most of them see you as an abomination, after all."

"So, you're saying you'd need to Fall, to break the partial bond?" Sam breathed.

"Yup," Gabriel said with false cheer. He didn't quite know what Sam was feeling right now, the hunter had tied himself into so many knots he wasn't sure Sam knew either.

"What happens if we do nothing?" Sam said after several minutes.

Gabriel blinked as he considered the idea. "I don't know," he admitted. "It's never been done before. It sounds dangerous."

"Why?" Sam said, looking him in the eye for the first time since this conversation had started.

"Because the bond wants to be completed," Gabriel explained. "And bonds are powerful things. Once initiated, it can… take steps."

"I don't know what that means," Sam said, exasperation leaking into his tone.

"Think like Final Destination meets every crappy rom-com you've ever seen," Gabriel said desperately. "Accidentally tripping and falling on top of you, oops, I bit your lip and tasted your blood. That kind of thing. We were already playing with fire when we started having sex, once you started using my blood to stave off the demon blood cravings."

"So why didn't you warn me?" Sam demanded, angry now.

"I did," Gabriel said mildly. "But I thought I was in control of things. I hadn't bargained on being tricked into swallowing your blood too. And I still can't figure out how it was done!"

"None of this was my idea," Sam pointed out.

"I know," Gabriel said, sighing. "I know. I'm sorry. I don't want to fight with you."

"We're still no closer to a solution," Sam said, trying to steer this awful conversation to some kind of conclusion.

"I already told you the only idea I have," Gabriel said.

"You, Falling?" Sam snapped. "No. No fucking way. I am not having you sacrifice yourself for me."

"Why not?" Gabriel said, his eyes glowing in a way that was rather distracting. He had placed himself in front of Sam and was gazing at him.

Sam breathed in and out, temper and frustration and desire and… oh. Well, fuck. "Because I love you, you son of a bitch."

"You what?"

"You heard me," Sam said thinly. "So, that's why I can't let you do this. It would… destroy me, I guess." He gasped as Gabriel launched himself at him, wrapping his legs around Sam's waist and crushing their mouths together. Sam pushed the archangel away, sending him sprawling onto the floor but far from being offended, Gabriel began to laugh.

"I don't think this is funny," Sam said, glaring.

"Oh but it is," the archangel chortled. "Here we are, both madly in love with each other and both desperately trying to be all noble and self-sacrificing. Wooh!" He threw his head back and howled.

"Both madly… what? What happened to 'general love for all humanity'?" Sam could hardly breathe with the turmoil in his chest.

"That?" Gabriel said breathlessly. "Was a lie. A bad one. I can't quite believe you fell for it, to be honest."

"Are you kidding me?" Sam growled. "Was this all some kind of trick?"

"A trick? To do what?" Gabriel spluttered.

"I don't know, confess how I feel about you? I don't appreciate being manipulated, Gabriel."

"I swear, it wasn't a trick," the archangel said solemnly as he got to his feet. "I'm an idiot, that's all." He gave Sam a considering look. "I think we've gotten a bit tangled up. Let's start over. Try this instead." He pushed Sam towards the chair he'd vacated earlier and sat him down. Then he unceremoniously plopped himself into Sam's lap. Resting his arms on Sam's shoulders, he grinned.

"I love you. You love me. Marry me, Sam."

* * *

Simmons approached Lucifer's chamber with trepidation. The news Crowley had given her was not good and the Lord of Hell had a rather unsavory reputation for shooting messengers. She tapped hesitantly at the door and then pulled herself up straight. She really needed to find her backbone again.

"Come," Lucifer said from behind the door. She pushed it open and strode in, faking confidence she didn't feel.

"Simmons," Lucifer said expansively, sprawled on a large chair that was almost, but not quite a throne. "What news from Crowley?"

"It seems your scheme to destabilize Heaven is going well," Simmons began. Perhaps if she started with good news, Lucifer wouldn't be mad at the less good news. "According to the reports we have, Michael has started a witch hunt. He's looking for the mole."

"The mole?" Lucifer said mildly, a curious look on his face. Simmons wasn't fooled.

"The one who posted that picture of Castiel and Dean Winchester all over Heaven," she said.

"Oh. That mole." Lucifer shrugged. "That wasn't me."

Simmons gave him a skeptical look. "If you say so, sire. Nevertheless, it seems Michael has been overzealous. They're apparently planning to execute many of the worst offenders."

"Execute!" Lucifer said, outraged. He stood up and glared at Simmons, who held up her hands.

"That's what our information says. We don't know who is on the list, but we're working on it."

Lucifer began to pace, which was never a good sign. "What is Michael thinking?" he said distractedly. Simmons thought it was a rhetorical question and stayed silent.

"Any other bad news I should know about?" Lucifer said after a moment.

"Something is going on with the horsemen," she said.

Lucifer stopped pacing and stared at her. "Define 'something'."

"It's hard to say," she hedged. "Famine is apparently unable to uh… do his thing, y'know. And Pestilence had to resort to a crossroads to speak to anyone in Hell, just as if he were a human. None of the usual communications channels were working for him, which is why this information came to Crowley not to your people."

"And Death?" Lucifer said icily.

"Still refusing to do anything but hang out in Chicago eating pizza. He won't speak to any of our representatives." Simmons made a face. "People are still dying, so I guess there's no problem with his power  _per se_."

"But he's not doing anything that I asked," Lucifer whined. "I don't ask for much, just a little natural disaster or a big wreck on an interstate or  _something._  I'd settle for an outbreak of food poisoning at this rate. How is he resisting the binding?"

Simmons shrugged. "I don't know, sire. He might know why his brethren are losing power however."

"No. I will not go crawling to him like a supplicant," Lucifer snapped. "And I can't have any of my people go either. That would be just as bad."

"OK," Simmons said, giving him a considering look. "Are you open to suggestions?"

He glared at her. "I'm not Crowley. This is not a democracy."

She looked down at the floor. "No, sir. Of course not. But Death is an unusual entity and he's quite vain. Why not leak this information to someone who might follow up on it?"

Lucifer looked at her with interest. "Who did you have in mind?"

"The Winchesters."

Lucifer threw his head back and laughed heartily. "Oh, good show, Simmons. You almost had me going for a minute."

"I'm serious," she said, raising her head. "They're smart, resourceful and Death  _likes_  humanity. You might be surprised."

"And how will I get any information Death chooses to tell them?" Lucifer said pointedly.

"Leave that to me," Simmons assured him.

"Very well," he huffed, waving a hand at her. "What can it hurt?"

* * *

Dean gave Cas a nervous look. "They've been in there a long time. And they've stopped shouting at each other."

"I consider that a good sign," the angel said calmly.

"A good sign?" Bobby grumbled. "What if Gabriel's killed Sam and done a runner?"

"Then I don't know my brother very well," Cas replied easily. "Gabriel loves Sam. He'd sooner rip out his own Grace than hurt him."

"I wish I had your confidence," Dean said. "I think I'm gonna go check on them."

"I wouldn't," the angel warned, his cheeks pink. Dean gaped at him.

"Tell me they're not fucking in the kitchen, while we all stand around here like idiots."

"Of course not," Cas said primly. "I wouldn't use language like that."

"But they are having sex?" Bobby yelped. "Goddamnit, angel!" He jumped up and ran out of the room.

"Cas, that was mean," Dean said reprovingly. The angel grinned at him, unrepentant. "What's going on?"

"They've come to an understanding," Cas said happily. "Bobby won't see anything too graphic, I promise."

Dean tugged the angel's coat to bring him closer and then yanked on his tie. "You're a very naughty angel," he said, lips teasingly close to Cas's. "What on earth possessed you to bait Bobby like that?"

"You're a bad influence on me," Cas said, leaning in those last few millimeters. Dean kissed him, soft and sensual. "And, well, so is Gabriel, I guess."

"Oh for God's sake!" Bobby exploded behind them. "Am I the only one not getting laid around here?"

* * *

"Yes," Sam said unsteadily. "I'll marry you. Bond with you. Whatever. But I have a question."

"Shoot," Gabriel said, nibbling at the skin behind his ear. Sam squirmed and tried to focus.

"What happens when I die?" The nibbling stopped. In fact, Gabriel had gone utterly, angelically still.

"Do we have to discuss that now?" he said after a moment.

"No," Sam admitted. "But we do have to discuss it before we do this. So it might as well be now."

Gabriel leaned back, his face solemn. "You go to Heaven."

"Are you sure about that," Sam said wryly. "I figured I was headed in the other direction."

"No," Gabriel said fiercely. "It's one of those rules I told you about. If angels mess with human lives, we can't condemn them to Hell for anything they may do in response."

"The rules we're gonna tempt Michael to break?" Sam pointed out.

"If he does break them, we're home free anyway," Gabriel said. "Satisfied?"

"No," Sam said, realizing that Gabriel had avoided answering the question properly. "What about you?"

"I'll be grief-stricken," Gabriel said, not looking at him. "But I'll survive."

"Wait a second," Sam said. "So, I won't see you, in Heaven?"

Gabriel sighed. "I can't go to Heaven, remember?"

"And how is it Heaven for me, to be separated from you?" Sam demanded.

"You won't notice," Gabriel muttered.

"How could I not notice?" Sam almost shrieked.

"The same way lots of people don't notice when their loved ones go to Hell?" Gabriel snarled. "They get a facsimile. A copy, based on their view of that person, rather than who they were."

Sam felt dizzy and sick. "A copy?" he faltered.

"A perfect copy," Gabriel agreed. "You won't be able to tell the difference."

"While you grieve, I just live happily ever after, with a fake?" Sam said, outraged.

"You're making it sound worse than it is," Gabriel told him. "What did you think would happen? You're mortal and I'm not."

"I…" Sam cast about desperately. "Is there nothing I can do?"

"I'm sorry, Sam. It's all I can offer you."

"Will you… be OK?" Sam asked, unsure of what he wanted the answer to be.

"Yeah," the angel said. "I'll live. Not that I have much choice."

"Not very romantic, under the circumstances," Sam commented sourly.

"I know," Gabriel agreed. "But I promised I wouldn't lie to you. Look, don't worry about it. We've got to survive the next few months first. Maybe I'll die and the problem will resolve itself."

"How will you dying fix anything?" Sam cried.

"Well, at least I won't be moping around. The copy will be the only version of me left. I quite like that, actually." Gabriel kissed him, thrusting his hands into Sam's hair. "Come on, Sam. Chin up. We've got a bonding to finish and a war to fight."

"This isn't over," Sam warned, but he opened his mouth to Gabriel anyway. He spotted Bobby out of the corner of his eye and the old hunter looked strangely relieved. Given his previous objections to Dean and Cas, Sam was a little surprised but grateful his replacement father wasn't against his choice.

* * *

"So, this bonding thing," Dean said nervously and Cas smiled at him. "Uh, did you want to do it now?"

"If you're ready," the angel said after a moment's consideration. "The ritual is uh… quite long." His cheeks were red and Dean peered at him curiously. "We can start with the marks."

"OK," Dean said, nodding. "Explain how this works."

"It's simple. We each place a mark on the other that signifies ownership," Cas said.

"What kind of mark?" Dean said, concerned at how little information Cas seemed willing to hand over.

"Well, the Enochian symbol of names is traditional," Cas said, and then paused. Dean gritted his teeth. "Or… other marks have been used." The angel swallowed in a way that made Dean very suspicious.

"Other marks?" he said, sucking in his bottom lip as he thought about it. Cas's eyes were suddenly riveted on his mouth and he suppressed a smile. And then it struck him. "Cas, this mark on my arm where you grabbed me in Hell? Is that…"

"Yes," Cas said in a small voice. His gaze dropped to the floor. "I'm sorry. I couldn't help it. I took one look at your soul… and I was lost."

"Hey," Dean said, tilting Cas's chin up with his fingers. "It's OK. I'm not mad. It's kind of cute actually." He looked pained. "Don't you dare tell Sam I said that."

"I won't," Cas smiled. "You're really not mad?"

"I'm really not," Dean said. "So I get to mark you too?"

Cas nodded. "However you want. Wherever you want."

"And you say names, in Enochian, are traditional?" Cas nodded again. "OK, what does my name look like in Enochian?"

Cas grabbed a pen and some paper from the bedside table. He sketched out a simple, elegant symbol with a few strokes of the pen and held it out to the hunter.

"I like it," Dean said. "I guess that makes me a traditional guy." He frowned. "But don't we have to match?"

"No," Cas said. "But I can still put my name on you, if you like." He sketched his own name next to Dean's.

He couldn't explain it, but the symbol of Cas's name seemed to call to him somehow. "Does that say Castiel?"

"No," Cas said. "This is Castiel." He drew another symbol, similar to the last one but more complex. "The other one just says Cas. Because that's the name  _you_  gave me."

Dean couldn't breathe suddenly. He could feel a pricking sensation at the back of his eyes. He cupped Cas's face in his hands and kissed him softly, ignoring the way tears streaked down his face.

"I like that," he said, his voice wobbling slightly. "Let's do it."

* * *

"You look tense," Michael said and Bobby glared at him.

"Damn right, I'm tense. What with you and your brother trying to blow up the world, and destroy the only things I've ever loved in the process? And now you want me to deliberately hurt Dean? Separate him from the one person who's ever accepted him completely. It leaves a bad taste in the mouth, even if I do disapprove. I'm a cranky old man. What do I know about love anymore?"

"It's not love," Michael said smoothly. "It's wicked lust and depraved rebellion."

"I think you're wrong," Bobby said. He looked around, suddenly aware of his surroundings. They were in an old church, long abandoned. The roof was open to the sky and the altar the only remaining thing inside. "Where are we, anyway?"

"A chapel, at Stull Cemetery," Michael told him. "In your head, of course."

"I never met him, you know, when he was so young," Bobby remarked. He made a gesture at Michael's form. "He was older, and already angry and bitter when we met."

"It's a pity," Michael said, looking down at himself. "He was a delightful young man. Before Azazel destroyed him, and our plans in the process."

"Look, maybe I don't think angels and humans should be doing the horizontal tango," Bobby said. "But they're doing no harm. Like I said before, it's not like Dean can get pregnant."

"You think fear of the nephilim is the only reason angel-human fraternization was restricted?" Michael said curiously.

"Is there another?"

"Of course. Preventing nephilim is perfectly possible, as you say, if the matings are same-sex. Or with older women past their child-bearing years. And these days, modern birth control is quite effective." His lips pursed. "Sometimes too effective."

"OK…" Bobby said uncertainly, feeling like they'd drifted off topic, but not eager to redirect the conversation back to uncomfortable places.

"The other problem was that angels who mated with humans became more difficult to control. They started wanting more freedom, more free will. They questioned orders, questioned our Father's will. My will."

"I can see how that would be a problem for you," Bobby said diplomatically. Fuck, if Rufus could hear him now!

"Quite so." Michael nodded. "So, it's decision time, Robert Singer. Give me Castiel and I will not harm a hair on Dean Winchester's head. You have my word on it."

"They're both at my house right now," Bobby said, a cold feeling in his gut. "You can't get to either of them there."

"No," Michael said. "You've warded the place quite effectively. So, as I told you before, separate them. Or let me through the wards."

"Look, I can't just open the wards to you," Bobby said, playing for time. "Cas will know what I've done."

"I tire of this constant refusal to obey," Michael said evenly, but it was clear he was adamant. "No more games."

"All right," Bobby snapped. "I'll figure something out. Get him outside my gate or something."

"Now."

"Soon as I wake up," the old man agreed.

He blinked and his eyes opened in the gloom of his bedroom. He could hear movement downstairs. Hopefully it would be just Cas and not Gabriel as well. He wasn't sure what the archangel would do to him once he figured out that Bobby had betrayed them.

He was in luck. In the living room, Cas was silently reading an old text on demonic omens.

"Cas," he croaked and the angel looked up. He cleared his throat. "I was gonna do a quick sweep of the perimeter, make sure everything's OK. You wanna come?"

Cas eyed him for a moment. "That's probably a good idea," he said.

"Where's Gabriel?" Bobby asked.

"He went back to San Francisco with Sam," Cas said, clearly amused. "Since you were so adamant about certain activities."

"Yeah, well," Bobby grumbled. "It's my house. Come on."


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since it's a holiday, I thought I'd post some extra chapters. Enjoy!

Cas watched the old hunter pull on his boots, his body radiating with tension. Had he detected something testing the wards? If so, why take the risk of encountering it now? Why not wait until the threat was clearer? And if that wasn't the problem, why was he so nervous? Something didn't add up. Cas wondered if he should wake Dean, but realistically, what could this old human do to him now he had his Grace back? Banish him, maybe, but why would he do that?

He followed Bobby out into the yard, where a light breeze whistled through the piles of old cars and metal creaked against metal. The spotlight near the gate was out and Bobby cursed when he noticed.

"I'll have to fix that in the morning," he muttered. He opened the gate and looked both ways, relaxing when he didn't see anyone. "You coming?"

"Of course," Cas said. Outside of the gate, the wind seemed stronger and he caught a sound of… His heart sank. Wingbeats.

"Bartholomew," he said leadenly, recognizing the feel of his brother's Grace.

"Castiel," Bartholomew said airily. "Fancy meeting you here."

Cas looked over to Bobby, who was looking down at the ground, his shoulders hunched. "Why, Bobby?"

"Because it ain't right, you and him," Bobby mumbled. "Angels and humans got no business doing… what you've been doing."

Cas's mouth dropped open in bleak astonishment. "And what about-" He cut himself off before he betrayed Gabriel to Bartholomew. "Well, what you said," he finished lamely. "About supporting Dean's decision."

"He ain't in no condition to be making life-altering choices," the old man said stubbornly. He looked up then, at Bartholomew. "Tell your boss I'm done. He gets nothing more out of me."

Realization dawned and with it a sense of impending doom. "What did Michael promise you in order to betray me?" he asked dispiritedly.

"He promised to leave Dean alone," Bobby said. "Those boys are like sons to me. What else could I do?"

"I understand," Cas said patiently. "But what exactly did Michael promise?"

"Not to harm a hair on Dean's head," the old man said stubbornly.

"I see," Cas said. "And when he possesses Dean and fights Lucifer in the final showdown, how do you think Dean's hair will fare then? Or the rest of him?"

"He promised," Bobby insisted.

"He lied," Cas said, sighing.

"Enough," Bartholomew announced. "I'm taking you directly to Michael. I should kill you on the spot, but I was told he wants to deal with you personally."

"Very well," Cas said. "I'll come quietly. Bobby, I hope for your sake I'm wrong." They vanished in a flurry of feathers.

"So do I," Bobby said to the empty air before trudging back inside.

* * *

Simmons tapped on Crowley's study door and blinked in surprise when Dorian opened it.

"There you are," he drawled, giving her a cheeky grin. "We missed you."

"I've been doing my job," Simmons said icily.

"Come in, Simmons," Crowley called impatiently from across the large room. "Stop lollygagging around in the doorway."

_Lollygagging!_  Simmons drew herself indignantly and marched haughtily into the room. Crowley was lounging in a large leather armchair, a snifter of brandy dangling carelessly from his fingertips.

"I was beginning to think you'd abandoned me," he said melodramatically.

Simmons rolled her eyes at him. "I have news," she said.

"Good news or bad news?" her master asked.

"Both," she admitted. "Depending on your point of view of course. So Michael is on the verge of executing angels for treason in his hunt for the mole that Lord Lucifer sent to destabilize things."

"I don't think he did," Crowley said opaquely.

Simmons stared at him, nonplussed.

"That's what he said too," she said warily. "So if he didn't do it, who did?"

"I don't know," Crowley said, a line forming between his brows. "It's strange. I spoke to Naamah, the demon who corrupted Uriel. I assumed she had been working on other angels too."

"That would make sense," Dorian agreed, helping himself to some of the brandy. He waved the bottle at Simmons but she shook her head. "Did she say it wasn't her?"

"Yes," Crowley said. "And she was mad about it. Apparently she'd been working a few different angels but wasn't getting anywhere. And then boom, out of nowhere comes this mole."

"So who benefits?" Simmons said, dropping into a chair. "I mean, other than Hell, obviously." She pulled a face. "Lord Lucifer is very angry about the executions. I don't understand it."

"He still thinks of himself as an angel," Crowley pointed out. "The whole point of this Apocalypse shindig is for him to be restored to Heaven and take over as ruler." Dorian and Simmons gaped at him.

"You're not serious," Dorian said.

"Of course I'm bloody serious," Crowley told him. "Why do you think he hates us so much?"

"OK, I suppose that makes sense," Simmons said doubtfully.

"No it doesn't," Dorian retorted. "But let's say we take him at his word. Who else benefits?"

"Well, technically this makes the vessels lives a bit easier, at least for a while," Simmons mused. "But I doubt Castiel could have snuck into Heaven and it really doesn't seem like their style anyway."

Crowley brayed with laughter. "No, the boys are more jump in guns blazing, I agree. I can ask, but I doubt it."

"You think they'd tell you, if it was them?" Simmons asked curiously.

"Probably," Crowley shrugged. "And I'd be able to tell if they lied. Any other ideas?"

Simmons chewed at her lip and looked away. Realizing what that looked like, she jerked her eyes back to her boss but he was onto her.

"Simmons? You look like you had an idea."

"The entity in the knife," Simmons said hesitantly.

"Zila," Dorian supplied. "We never did find out who she was."

"I know who she is," Simmons replied. "Her real name is Zurvan."

"Zurvan?" Crowley said sharply. "Who is that?"

"A god of time," Simmons said. "My people knew to be wary of her, she is quick to anger and really holds a grudge."

"Your people…" Dorian said idly. Simmons waved him off.

"Well, that would certainly explain a few things," Crowley said, considering the matter. "Dean Winchester claims to be time travelling right now."

Dorian gave an inelegant snort and Simmons glared at him. "Do we think she could be behind this mole?"

"I don't know," Crowley said, shaking his head. "But it's the best theory we've got."

"Well, I have other news as well." Simmons stood and wandered over to one of the bookcases, frowning over the titles. Celebrity autobiographies and the kind of coffee table books that humans buy to impress other humans, but never actually read.

"Spit it out, Simmons," Crowley directed.

"This problem with the horsemen," she said diffidently. "Famine losing his power, Pestilence unable to use normal communications channels-" Crowley made an impatient gesture. "Lord Lucifer thinks Death might know what's going on and he may share that information with the right person. Namely, the Winchesters."

Crowley arched a brow at her. "You mean, that's what you think and you convinced Lucifer to go along with it." He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "OK, I don't hate the idea. I'll see what they say."

* * *

Bartholomew marched Cas directly to a small office that he vaguely remembered used to belong to Anna. But anything of hers had long been taken away, leaving it spartan and cold. He frowned in confusion.

"I thought you were bringing me directly to Michael," Cas said. "This is not his office."

"No," Bartholomew said. "It's mine." Blank and featureless, Cas thought humorlessly. Just like Bartholomew. "Michael is busy right now, so you'll wait here. Heaven's prison is rather full and I didn't want you corrupting the angels in there any further."

"Aren't you worried I'll corrupt you instead," Cas said sarcastically. "Just standing here?"

His brother gave him a withering look. "Don't be facetious."

Cas strolled around the room, taking in the blandness. "I love what you've done with the place," he said insouciantly. "It's very you."

"Are you trying to anger me?" Bartholomew asked. "It won't work."

"No," Cas said. "That wouldn't be very smart, would it? What if you snapped, and killed me yourself?"

Bartholomew glared at him. "Stay here. I'll be back soon." He stalked out of the office and locked the door behind him.

Cas considered his situation gravely. He needed to get in touch with Dean and let him know what was happening, somehow without letting the hunter know exactly how he'd ended up captured by Heaven. He wasn't angry with Bobby, he knew how Michael operated and was unsurprised his brother had managed to find a pressure point. And he'd been aware of Bobby's disapproval of their relationship from the beginning. Hell, until just recently, he'd have agreed with the old man. So he could hardly hold that against him.

He just needed to find a way to escape before Michael returned. He chewed on his lip and thought about reaching out to Gabriel. He wasn't sure if he could reach the archangel from Heaven but maybe he didn't need to. Maybe the pagan route would be more undetectable from here. He sketched out in his mind what message he wanted to send and then began to concentrate.

* * *

Dean needed coffee. Buckets of coffee. He'd slept badly, tossing and turning so much he'd apparently driven Cas out of bed entirely. Although, since he got his Grace back, it wasn't as though the angel slept. He dragged himself out of bed and shuffled downstairs and frowned. The kitchen was still and cold, with no smell of freshly brewing coffee. Cas always knew when he was up and put a fresh pot on. He smiled to himself at the thought that they'd already started finding a routine but that warm feeling vanished when he couldn't find the angel anywhere in the house. He pulled on his boots and headed outside, wondering if Cas had gone for a walk. Not that he went for walks, as a rule, but hey, it was a free country.

But there was no sign of Cas anywhere in the junkyard and Dean started to feel more than a little concerned. Surely Cas wouldn't have left without leaving a note? He went back indoors to see Bobby slumped over his desk, dead to the world with an empty bottle of whiskey lying by his arm. Now that was odd too. He distinctly remembered Bobby heading upstairs to bed at the same time as him and Cas. So when had the old man come downstairs and why had he felt the need to drink himself unconscious? He shook Bobby's shoulder and jumped back when he scrabbled for a gun.

"Hey, hey, it's me."

"Oh, sorry, boy." Bobby muttered. "I was having a weird dream."

"Clowns or midgets?" Dean said on reflex, but he wasn't really in a joking mood. "Did you see Cas when you came downstairs?"

"No," Bobby said, but he sounded a bit defensive to Dean's ear. Strange. He didn't like strange. He pulled out his phone and called Sam, cursing when it went to voicemail.

"Well, he can't have just vanished," Dean said. "And if Heaven broke in to grab him, I think we'd have noticed."

"Maybe he went off to do something," Bobby suggested.

"Without saying anything, or leaving a note? When he knows he's on Heaven's Most Wanted list?" Dean shook his head. "No, Bobby. Something's wrong."

"Well, let's call Sam and get some archangel mojo on the case," Bobby said.

"Yeah, he's not answering his phone," Dean sulked. "I'm gonna take another look around outside."

"I'll make some calls," Bobby offered. "Maybe somebody out there knows something."

* * *

Sam woke up to find himself curled around Gabriel's small form and smiled. The last few days had been rough and he wasn't sure he'd ever forgive himself for what had happened with Lugh. But apparently Gabriel  _had_  forgiven him and that was all that mattered. He ran one hand down the archangel's flank and shivered. Gabriel had been wild and untamed in bed last night and Sam was sore in places he had no idea he even had muscles. He stretched and Gabriel shifted, turning around to face him.

"Morning, Sam," he said sleepily. "Sleep well?"

"Like the dead," Sam told him, kissing the tip of his nose. "So, uh, this bonding? What do we have to do?"

Gabriel's eyes opened fully. "We took care of the blood exchanges last night. So the marks is the final step."

"Yeah, you mentioned that. What do you mean, marks?"

Gabriel looked uncomfortable. "You could call it a brand, I guess."

"A brand? Ouch."

"No, no, it doesn't hurt. But it's my name, and it marks you as my… property." Sam rolled his eyes and Gabriel bit his lip. "Angels are a bit primitive sometimes," he said defensively.

"It's OK. And do I mark you with my name?"

"Yes. Well, no. You're not scrawling Sam on me somewhere," Gabriel laughed. "It'll be in Enochian."

"Where?" Sam asked.

"Uh, here? I assume you don't want an audience? But we can go back to Bobby's if you prefer." Gabriel said. Sam punched him playfully on the arm.

"Where on my body, asshole."

"Oh, uh, wherever you want really. I assume you'd prefer somewhere normally covered by clothes." Gabriel's eyebrows shot up at the look on Sam's face. "Or… not?"

"No, no, you're right, it's probably smarter to have it hidden," Sam said. But Gabriel had read his expression correctly, the idea of walking around, proudly proclaiming his ownership by Gabriel had been… really hot. He thought he knew himself pretty well but he was shocked by the submissiveness implicit in that desire.

"If it arouses you that much, I can come up with other, less permanent ways to show you're mine," Gabriel growled and Sam realized he wasn't the only one turned on by the idea. "Maybe you could wear a collar?"

Sam wanted to deny wanting any such thing but he had to admit, it had a certain appeal. "I think we're getting distracted," he said unsteadily.

"Nonsense," Gabriel said. "This is an important conversation. Who knew you were a sub, Sam?"

"Shut up," Sam said without heat. "Look, can we get to this marking business?"

"Ooh, in a hurry are we?" Gabriel mocked. "All right, Sam. But I need to tell you a couple of things first."

Sam squirmed, arousal beating at him. Why was Gabriel dragging this out?

"The bond will allow us to communicate, mind to mind, emotion to emotion. That can be overwhelming, at least at first. So, try to stay calm. And… we're going to be busy for the rest of today if we do this."

"Busy doing what?" Sam asked. Gabriel canted an eyebrow at him and he flushed. "Oh."

"Bonding is intense. We will feel the need to couple frequently after it is done. We won't be able to resist. So, if there's anything else you need to do today, you either do it before we get started or it has to wait until tomorrow. At the earliest."

"I better call Dean," Sam said, pushing his libido back. "Just in case."

He picked up his phone to see three missed calls from his brother and he frowned. Damn, he'd put it on silent last night and forgotten all about it. He dialed quickly and was disturbed by the breathless tone when his brother answered.

"Sam, thank God," Dean said.

"Dean, what's happening?" Sam asked.

"Cas is gone, Sam."

"What do you mean, gone?" Sam said sharply.

"He's disappeared. When me and Bobby woke up this morning, he was just… gone." Dean's voice cracked and alarm bells began to ring in Sam's head.

"Shit. OK, look, we'll be right there." He looked over to Gabriel who was pouting attractively against the headboard. "Don't panic, we'll figure it out." He hung up and gave his lover an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, Gabriel. But we have to go back to Bobby's and figure out what's happened to Cas.

"I heard," the archangel said in a resigned voice. "Come on, the sooner we find my missing brother, the sooner I can bring you back here and… tame you?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at Sam and the hunter gulped.

* * *

As soon as they arrived back in Bobby's living room, Sam knew something was wrong, something more than just Cas being missing. There was a tension in the air as though they'd walked in and it seemed to be centered on Bobby.

"Any news?" Sam asked as Dean turned to face them.

"None," Dean said. "I just don't understand. There's no way they could have gotten through the wards without setting off the alarms."

Bobby said nothing, which Sam thought was odd. "Maybe he went outside?" he offered.

"OK, but why? He knows he's on the hitlist, why take the risk?" Dean demanded.

Sam thought hard, feeling Gabriel's restlessness beside him. "Maybe someone tricked him somehow?"

"Yeah, maybe," Dean agreed. He raked a hand through his hair.

"The thing we have to figure out is, who is behind it?" Sam suggested. "Is this Heaven or is this someone else, like Lugh for example?" His voice quavered on Lugh's name he noticed.

"Lugh's already passed up a chance to capture Castiel, before he gave him his Grace back," Gabriel reminded him. "This has to be one of my brothers."

Dean staggered and Sam leapt forward to catch him. "Is he dead then?" he whispered.

"No," Gabriel said firmly. "Whoever has him, he's still alive. Trust me." A strange expression passed over his face.

"What is it?" Sam pressed.

"I don't know… Someone's using one of the old pagan warning beacons." Gabriel closed his eyes, his face serene as he concentrated. His eyes popped open. "It's Castiel. He's in Heaven." His gaze fell on Bobby, who quailed under his scrutiny. "Bartholomew captured him right outside the gate. How did he come to be out there? Seems rather careless."

"I'm sure he had a good reason," Dean said defensively. But Sam realized Gabriel wasn't criticizing Cas.

"You think he was lured out there," he said. And then he turned his head to follow Gabriel's stare. "Bobby?"

"What was I supposed to do?" the old man complained. "He didn't give me much choice."

"Who didn't?" Dean barked.

"Michael," Gabriel suggested and Bobby nodded slowly. "My brother is nothing if not ruthless. What did he promise you, Bobby?"

"He said the boys would be safe. That he would find a way to end the Apocalypse without Sam or Dean," Bobby replied, sounding as though his heart was breaking.

"You son of a bitch!" Dean yelled. "Why the Hell would you trust Michael's word? Because you don't like me and Cas being together? I trusted you. We trusted you. I… I can't believe this…"

"Dean," Sam said, placing one hand on his arm. "What's done is done. We need to come with a plan to get Cas out of there." Dean shook him off, maintaining his angry glare at Bobby.

An alarm bell began to ring out in the yard. That spurred Bobby into motion, as he jumped up and grabbed his shotgun. "That's the gate alarm," he said and dashed out the door. Dean exchanged a look with Sam and Gabriel and then followed at a run.

Outside the gates were wide open and an angel stood there, smiling faintly to himself. He was neatly dressed in an expensive suit, his vessel's blond, blue-eyed face was insouciant.

"You!" Bobby shouted, pointing the shotgun at him. He knew it was pointless of course, but it made him feel better.

"You've met this guy before?" Dean muttered.

"His name is Bartholomew," Gabriel said, walking up behind Bobby.

The angel's eyes narrowed. "Who the Hell are you?"

"Nobody you know," Gabriel replied.

Bartholomew's eyes widened in recognition. "Gabriel? We thought you were dead!"

"Nope, just pining for the fjords," Gabriel said lightly. Bartholomew looked confused, the reference clearly escaped him.

"You should come home," Bartholomew told him. "You're needed in Heaven. You know the Apocalypse is at hand."

"I don't have to do anything of the sort," Gabriel said sharply, his eyes boring into Bartholomew.

"OK, fine," Bartholomew said hastily. "You don't need to get involved. Just let me deliver my message from Michael and I'll go." Gabriel made a gesture for him to continue and he turned his attention to Dean. "Michael says he'll release Castiel," the angel's lip curled in contempt, "In exchange for your consent to serve as his vessel, as was foretold."

"No," Sam said. "It's a trap. You know he won't let Cas go."

"I know," Dean said, no trace of anger or any other emotion on his face. Sam frowned.

"So?" Bartholomew said impatiently. "Can I go back to Heaven and tell my brother you consent?"

"You know what?" Dean said, almost jovially. "Tell Michael he can bite me. I ain't being blackmailed."

"You realize we will execute Castiel if you don't consent?" Bartholomew said in disbelief. "Don't you care about what happens to him?"

"Of course I care," Dean said. "I love him. But he wouldn't want me to do this. I know he wouldn't." He lifted his chin defiantly. "And if Michael did execute him, that would break the uh…"

"Canaanite Accords," Gabriel supplied.

"Yeah, those. And suddenly, Michael isn't the boss anymore." Dean concluded, his arms folded in front of his chest. Bartholomew gaped at him like a startled fish.

"Gabriel… You're throwing your lot in with them? With humans?" he said wonderingly.

"Yup," Gabriel said, one hand straying possessively to Sam's hip. "Because they're better than us."

Bartholomew gave him a withering look. "You've gone native," he said, disgust plain on his face.

"Get out of here before I rearrange your face," Gabriel said softly. "You have Dean's reply to Michael. Now, go."

Bartholomew didn't need to be told twice it seemed. He vanished in a flurry of feathers. Dean thrust his hands into his hair, breathing hard.

"Don't panic," Gabriel advised. "Michael's gonna be pissed, but he's not stupid. There's no way he can kill Castiel without the backlash of Dad's seal taking his archangel badge away. At least for now, we've bought ourselves some time."

"I know," Dean managed. "But what if you're wrong?"

"I'm not wrong," Gabriel said confidently. "Trust me."


	17. Chapter 17

Bartholomew had expected Michael to explode with rage when he related the events in South Dakota. But instead the leader of Heaven remained serene, his hands steepled in front of his face.

"Is he right?" he pressed when Michael didn't speak.

"Who?" Michael said absently.

"Gabriel," Bartholomew said.

"Oh, yes," Michael said. "Castiel has…" the desk made an ominous groaning sound. "...bonded with Dean Winchester, which means we cannot execute him without breaking the Accords."

"And the bond is confirmed?" Bartholomew asked.

"It is complete, according to Naomi." The desk made a loud crack and Bartholomew jumped.

"So what do we do?"

"We move on to plan B," Michael said smoothly. "Adam Milligan is a second-rate substitute for Dean Winchester. His bloodline is not as good. But it is good enough." Bartholomew nodded, although privately he wondered if good enough was really going to work if Lucifer was in his True Vessel.

"Is there nothing we can do to break the bond?" he asked diffidently.

Michael regarded him steadily. "No. The only thing that would break the bond now is Castiel's death. And, as Gabriel has so kindly come back to tell us, that would break the Canaanite Accords and I would be stripped of my position." He gave Bartholomew a wolfish grin. "Even if I only ordered his execution and did not perform it myself, our Father's will would know I was responsible. So, Castiel's order of execution is commuted. He must be imprisoned for his crimes, separately from the other rebel angels. Perhaps not even in Heaven. Bartholomew, I am leaving this matter in your hands. Find somewhere suitable to incarcerate him. I do not want to hear his name spoken in Heaven again, do you understand me?" Bartholomew nodded slowly. "Let me reiterate, just so that we are  _absolutely_ clear. He is not to be executed, on my orders." Bartholomew squirmed under the relentless gaze of his leader and swallowed. He knew what had to be done, and if that meant a sacrifice from him for the sake of his oldest brother, then he would do it gladly. But perhaps he could convince someone else to take that fall instead.

"Is there any sign of Balthazar?" Michael was saying. Bartholomew blinked in surprise.

"No, sir. I think he must be hiding on earth somewhere," he said.

"Very well, the leadership of the UAC is yours. I want regular progress reports, Bartholomew."

"Yes, sir," Bartholomew said, standing up. "Of course."

* * *

Castiel paced back and forth in the bland featureless office that was serving as his cell. He wondered how long it would be before Bartholomew returned. So he was surprised when Zachariah opened the door and stalked into the room.

"Castiel," he said savagely. "This is all your fault."

"Mine?" the seraph said mildly. "I don't see how."

"Really?" Zachariah snarled. "If you had not betrayed Heaven with your disgusting, misguided lust for that idiotic vessel, I would still be a power here! Instead, I have been imprisoned and am on the list to be executed!"

"I know," Cas said sadly. "I am sorry about that, but I still don't see how that is my fault."

"It doesn't matter," Zachariah said. "What matters is that with my life forfeit, I have nothing to lose." Cas backed away from him in alarm. What did that mean? The metallic slither of Zachariah's blade made his stomach clench.

"I thought you were a prisoner," he said desperately. "How come they didn't strip you of your weapon?"

Zachariah looked down at his blade with a twisted smile. "This? I guess it was an oversight." He lunged forward and Cas dodged out of the way. But this room was too small to pull that trick off too many times. He had to find a way to get to the door! There was a mad gleam in Zachariah's eyes that made him shudder.

"I should have been lauded as a genius!" The blade came whistling towards him again and Cas danced out of the way, his trenchcoat tangling on it before Zachariah wrenched it free. "Instead I'm demoted and ridiculed! And you! You break our laws, you kill our brothers and you abandon us. And Michael grants you a stay of execution. You! What lies have you told to convince Michael to forgive you for bedding his vessel?"

Alarm began to creep into Cas's mind, even as he dodged and weaved to avoid Zachariah's increasingly wild thrusts. Michael had granted a stay of execution? Why? He yelped as the blade sliced a shallow cut into his side. Blood and Grace began to leak out, and he staggered.

"Wait," he said, holding out one hand. "Zachariah, why would Michael grant me a stay? I haven't even spoken to him."

"Lies!"

Cas pressed his free hand to his wound and leaned away from another slash of the blade. "Zachariah, please. You're being manipulated here. Can't you see it?"

"The only one manipulating anything is you! You can't run forever Castiel!" Zachariah lunged forward, the blade passing smoothly through Cas's chest and he screamed in pain. And then he felt his Grace begin to pulse and everything went white.

* * *

"I told you," Balthazar said as Dean, Gabriel and Sam entered Crowley's house. "I am not going back to Heaven. I'm done."

"We're not asking for you to go back," Gabriel said. "Just give me a little cover while I sneak in and liberate Cassie."

Balthazar sighed and sat down on Crowley's desk. "No. I'm sorry, Gabriel, I really am. Castiel was a good sort. But if I go back, I'm dead. I never wanted any part of this, and I already have done more than my fair share of taking risks."

"And besides," Crowley said, sauntering into the room. "It's almost guaranteed that you'll get caught. So Bal risks his life for nothing. I won't have it."

"You don't get a say," Gabriel snarled. "He's our brother, not yours."

Crowley poked his tongue out at him. "I get a say if you're trying to bully Bal into a suicide mission."

"Look, he's right," Dean interjected. "Cas would never forgive me if we got one of his brothers killed in a mission that has no chance of success."

"I can't believe you're giving up!" Gabriel was incredulous.

"I'm not," Dean said stoutly. "I just think we need to come up with another plan. A better plan than trying to sneak in the back door of Heaven and hope we don't get caught."

Sam eyed his brother with admiration. He'd been terrified that Dean would be so distraught over Cas's capture that he would dive head first into whatever insane plan presented itself. To see him thoughtful and considering the best plan was… unusual. He leaned over to whisper in Gabriel's ear.

"Have Cas and Dean completed their bonding?" he asked.

"Yes," Gabriel murmured back. "They completed it last night."

"So the Canaanite Accords thing will work if they kill Cas?"

Gabriel was silent and Sam's gut cramped with despair. "I hope so," he said finally. "My brother is devious. He might find a loophole."

"All right," Crowley said, looking much put upon. "I might have an idea. Uriel had an inside track here in Hell, through the demon Naamah. But Uriel wasn't the only angel Naamah was meeting with, we just don't know who the other angel was. Maybe if we can find out who that was-" He was interrupted by a loud crack of thunder that made the walls of the house shake and one window shatter. Gabriel and Balthazar both swayed unsteadily and then the archangel gave out a wail. The sorrow and misery in that sound was almost unbearable.

"Oh Father," Balthazar said wretchedly.

"What the Hell was that?" Sam demanded, his voice gruff with strain.

"One of our brothers has just died," Balthazar replied, his face pale and sweating. Gabriel had thrown himself into Sam's arms and was weeping uncontrollably. "I think we just heard the sound of the Canaanite Accords being broken."

Horrified, Sam turned his head from where he'd been nuzzling Gabriel's hair to see his brother standing stock still, his face curiously blank. "Dean?"

His brother said nothing, just stood there blankly staring into space. "Dean!"

Balthazar stood up and guided the catatonic hunter into a chair. "The bond with Castiel has broken. The psychic backlash can be… considerable. He'll probably not be able to respond to the outside world for a while."

Gabriel was clinging to him desperately and Sam looked down at the top of his head, trying to process what was happening. Cas… He swallowed. They'd been wrong. Horrifically, appallingly wrong. Either Michael had not cared about breaking the Accords or he had found a way around it and Cas had paid the ultimate price. His throat ached, it wasn't fair, dammit.

Crowley was watching them all with a solemn expression. And then he quietly slipped out of the room.

* * *

Bartholomew stared at the ruins of his office speechlessly. He picked his way through the rubble to find Zachariah lying under a bookcase. He poked the angel tentatively.

"I'm alive," Zachariah slurred.

"You're more than alive," Bartholomew informed him. "You're mortal."

"What?" Zachariah tried to move and yelped with pain.

"You're mortal. No trace of your Grace remains." Bartholomew suppressed a smile. The plan had worked perfectly. Castiel was dead, his old rival was now little better than a human and Michael would be well pleased with this turn of events. "You'll have to leave Heaven."

"I can't even leave this room," Zachariah said wearily. "You'll have to carry me out."

Bartholomew sneered at him. "I'll make sure someone comes and gets you. You know, you should have listened to me. You wouldn't be here now if you had just listened."

"Go away," Zachariah breathed. "If you're not going to help me, just leave me alone."

Bartholomew pursed his lips and then left the room. He headed straight for Michael's office and was surprised when Hael intercepted him.

"You can't go in there," she said.

He shoved her out of the way. "You've no right to stop me."

"He said he doesn't want to be disturbed," she said, tossing her head angrily.

"This is important," Bartholomew said loftily. "It can't wait." He held her at arm's length as he opened the door.

"Hael, I specifically said I was not to be interrupted!" Michael barked. He blinked in surprise as Bartholomew stumbled into the room. "Bartholomew, what is the meaning of this?"

"Castiel is dead," he said breathlessly.

"I noticed," Michael said drily. He looked Bartholomew up and down with a critical eye. "You appear to be unharmed."

" _I_  didn't kill him," Bartholomew said, indignation making him stand up straight.

"Then who did?"

"Zachariah. There was an… administrative error and he was taken to my office to be interviewed while Castiel was still detained there. Apparently he took matters into his own hands." Bartholomew spread his hands wide.

"Administrative error… I see," Michael said, and his mouth twitched. "And another clerical error meant that Zachariah remained in possession of his blade?"

"Quite so," Bartholomew replied.

"Hmm. So what did the trap our Father set in the Canaanite Accords do to him?" Michael seemed genuinely curious and Bartholomew puzzled over that. Surely he knew what would happen? Wasn't that why he'd carefully made his wishes plain without making them explicit?

"He's been stripped of his Grace. He's mortal now. And badly injured by the explosion too. My office is ruined!" Bartholomew took a deep breath. He was getting overwrought.

"Completely mortal?" Michael said, his eyes distant. "Interesting. More extreme than I expected." He shrugged carelessly. "Zachariah's old office is available if you want it. He certainly won't be needing it any more. Send Zachariah to me, would you?"

"What? Why?" Bartholomew blurted before he could stop himself.

Michael's face was cold. "That's not for you to know."

"Of course," Bartholomew said quickly, backing out of the room. Michael watched him leave.

* * *

The storm of Gabriel's grief had passed and he'd reluctantly transported them all back to South Dakota. Bobby had taken one look at Dean and then dropped his head. Sam was torn. He was angry with Bobby for betraying them, but he also understood how relentlessly Michael had put pressure on him.

"So that's it then?" Bobby said.

Gabriel gave him a contemptuous look. "My brother is dead. One of my best brothers is gone. Be glad I don't smite you where you stand."

"Gabriel," Sam said quellingly, placing a hand on his shoulder. Gabriel shrugged him off.

"We shouldn't have come here," he said. "We should go to San Francisco."

Sam raked a hand through his hair. "Maybe once Dean wakes up. I'd prefer him to be somewhere familiar for now."

Gabriel regarded him for a moment before nodding. "OK. Let's get him upstairs." Sam cast an apologetic look at Bobby and then followed Gabriel up the stairs.

In the bedroom, Gabriel gently guided Dean into bed and began checking his vital signs.

"When will he wake up?" Sam asked.

"I don't know," the archangel admitted. "I don't even know if he will."

"What?" Sam cried.

"Sam, in all the millenia I've seen, broken bonds are rare. Even a partial bond… it's brutal. Every instance I've ever known, it was the human half of the pair who died. I simply don't know what the breakage would have done to Dean's mind." Gabriel's voice vibrated with sorrow.

"Dean's strong," Sam insisted.

"Yes," Gabriel agreed. "If anyone can survive this, he can. I'm just saying, you need to be prepared for the worst, that's all."

Sam gazed at him mournfully. "I'm not giving up on him."

"I never said that," Gabriel said, leaning his head on Sam's shoulder. "I'm just don't want to give you false hope."

* * *

Zachariah had been fading in and out of consciousness. He was dying, he thought. He was surprised not to feel more upset. After all, he had been an eternal being, expecting to bestride the centuries to the Apocalypse and beyond. And yet, lying here on a pile of rubble, he was at peace. He was vaguely aware of someone kneeling down beside him and touching his forehead and the sensation of Grace flooding through him was both familiar and foreign at the same time. He blinked open encrusted eyes to see Hael looking down at him, a faint smile on her face.

"You're awake," she said unnecessarily.

"Seems so," Zachariah responded. "What's going on?"

"Michael wants to see you," Hael said. "Bartholomew asked me to come heal you and bring you to him."

"OK," Zachariah said. Hael held out a hand and helped him up onto his feet. He breathed in and out, his head spinning.

"The dizziness will pass," Hael told him. "You've been through an accelerated Fall. It will take time to adjust."

"Adjust!" Zachariah barked out in an odd half-laugh, half-sob.

"Come on," Hael said kindly. "Michael won't be happy if we keep him waiting."

Zachariah followed Hael mutely through Heaven's corridors, ignoring the stares and whispers from other angels as he passed. When they arrived at Michael's door, Hael gave him a warning glance he couldn't interpret before knocking and opening the door. Zachariah patted her on the shoulder and dragged himself wearily into the room.

"Michael," he said, nodding respectfully. He was angry with his boss, for sure, but he wasn't stupid enough to let that show.

"Zachariah," Michael said, folding his hands neatly in front of him. "I have a job for you."

Despite his resolution to keep a rein on his temper, Zachariah had to bite his cheek not to snap back at his boss.

"A job," he said, unable to keep the bite completely out of his tone.

"You're angry," Michael said, his voice resigned. "I understand. But I did what was necessary. I hope you will see that."

Zachariah said nothing, just waited patiently.

"Very well. We worked well together, you and I, looking for the mole. And yet, we did not find him or her. So I wanted to try a new strategy. You are to be my mole, Zachariah."

"What?"

"It's quite simple. You're mortal now. Go to earth, and find the Winchesters. Throw yourself on their mercy. Get them to trust you. They have an ally in Hell, a nasty little punk called Crowley who styles himself King of the Crossroads. I need information on what is going on in Hell, Zachariah. Maybe even spread a little chaos of our own, eh?"

Zachariah couldn't help but admire his master's ruthlessness. He smiled. "I'll do my best, of course. But perhaps Hael should not have healed me so well. It would have looked better if I were injured." At the gleam in Michael's eye he added quickly, "Non-fatally of course."

Michael looked delighted. "Of course." He stood up and walked over to Zachariah, and hugged him tightly. Zachariah startled at the unexpected embrace. And then Michael punched him solidly in the side of his head and he saw stars.

* * *

Balthazar wiped at his eyes, his face pale and drawn. Crowley watched him carefully, as the angel sipped at the cognac Crowley had left on the desk for him.

"So," he said, considering his words cautiously. "Castiel is dead. I'm sorry Balthazar."

"He was one of the best of us," Balthazar said woodenly. "I mean, he had a stick up his arse like you wouldn't believe but you could trust him. Rely on him. When he told us our leadership had not just dropped a bollock on the whole seals business but actively colluded with Hell to release Lucifer and bring on the Apocalypse, I thought he'd gone mad. Some angels aren't cut out to be on earth, you know? But he was right." He pressed both hands against his face. "And now he's gone."

"You certain it was Castiel?" Crowley pressed.

"Of course I'm sure," Balthazar snapped. "Each angel's Grace sings with a different song. All of us hear it when one of us dies."

"It doesn't change anything-" Crowley started and Balthazar stood up angrily.

"It changes everything!" he declared. "Don't you understand? Castiel held an almost mythic status amongst the Host. He defied Heaven, defied Michael and won! For those of us who didn't like the path Heaven's leadership was treading, he was a symbol of hope!" He shoved away from the desk and stalked towards the window, looking out over the lake. "What little rebellion is left in Heaven will die with him."

"And you?" Crowley said. His tone was casual but Balthazar knew him better than to believe it.

"My path is set," Balthazar told him. "I can't return now even if I wanted to. I'm Falling."

"I wondered," Crowley said, standing and joining the angel at the window. He stroked one hand down his back. "Does it hurt?"

"Yes," Balthazar confessed. "Not physically, exactly. It's hard to explain." He turned and swept Crowley into a full body embrace and nuzzled his nose into the demon's neck. Crowley hummed with pleasure and lifted Balthazar's chin to place a soft kiss on his mouth.

"I can't fix this," he said quietly. "But I can help you forget…"


	18. Chapter 18

Dean's eyes flickered open and he strained in the dark to make out something familiar. He felt disoriented and vaguely sick. A sound to his left had him scrabbling for a weapon.

"Dean," a familiar voice said. "It's Sam, it's OK."

He stopped moving and flopped back against the pillow. "Where am I?" His voice sounded rusty and disused. How long had he been asleep?

"Bobby's," Sam told him. He stiffened in reaction and Sam laid a hand on his arm. "Hey, it's OK."

"No," Dean said hollowly. "It's not." He took a deep breath. "We have to go see Chuck." It would be OK. Chuck could fix this, could resurrect Cas, mend the broken bond. He'd resurrected Cas before.

"Chuck?" Sam said, sounding surprised.

"Yeah," Dean said. "He'll know what to do."

"Dean, I don't think--"

"Don't think," Dean snarled. "Take me to Chuck. Now."

Sam held up his hands in defeat, the dark shapes barely visible in the dim light from the window. "OK. Get some more sleep and we'll leave at first light."

"Now, Sam," Dean insisted.

"All right." Sam stood up and turned on the light. Dean winced as pain shot through his skull. "Get dressed. I'll go get Gabriel."

Dean sat up and cursed as his head swam. Now was not a good time to have a fainting spell. There was a strange, raw feeling in his chest, like a wound. He climbed out of bed and limped over to the dresser. He turned his arm and looked at the symbol of Cas's name in the mirror. When Cas had placed it there it had glowed silvery-blue but now it was black. He frowned in distress but at least it was still there. He'd been half afraid it might have disappeared and he wasn't sure he could have coped with that. A wave of panic almost drowned him and he swayed and took a deep breath. The trick was not to think beyond the next few minutes, to just keep moving. Like a shark, if he kept swimming then maybe he wouldn't drown.

So, he needed clothes. He found his jeans neatly folded on a chair and yanked them on roughly. He pulled off the shirt he'd been wearing and located a clean one in the duffel bag slung untidily in a corner. He was searching through the bag for socks when his hand slid across the cool familiar metal of his favorite pistol. He pulled it out and looked at it, turning it this way and that. The pearl-handled grip fit into his palm like the gun had been made just for him. He checked the chamber and was doing the same with the clip when Sam re-entered the room. He saw his brother's eyes flare in alarm and stood up, tucking the gun into his waistband.

"You all set?" Sam asked, his face a study in caution.

Dean just stared at him for a moment and then let his gaze slide away. "I need socks," he said pathetically.

"OK," Sam said, still treating him like a grenade. Maybe that was unfair. Dean didn't care. Sam knelt down and pulled a pair of socks out of Dean's bag, his eyes never leaving his brother. He tossed them over and then held out his hand.

"Gimme the gun."

"No," Dean said, stepping back. "I'm not going to do anything stupid, Sam."

"Sure," Sam said easily, but his eyes were hard. "Humor me, then."

"No way," Dean repeated. "You think I'm gonna kill myself? I ain't. And it doesn't matter if I--" The room tilted dizzily and he blinked rapidly several times before his vision righted itself. He looked around in puzzlement. Where the Hell was he? It was some kind of office, but had clearly not been used in a long time. The shelves of books were dusty, an old-fashioned typewriter on the desk had cobwebs on it and there were no signs of modernity at all. The only source of light were two lamps on the wall that Dean was sure were gas lamps.

Had Chuck brought him here? If so, where was he? He tugged at a desk drawer but it was locked and he did not have any picks with him. He kicked the desk in frustration.

"I see your temper has not improved," a voice said from the door. He whirled around to see Michael, once again in the guise of his father as a young man.

"Where the Hell am I?" Dean demanded.

Michael gave a careless shrug. "In your head."

"It was you, wasn't it?"

"What was me?" Michael asked, his eyes boring into Dean's.

"Cas, you killed him!" Dean's fist clenched and he tried to step forward but found he couldn't move.

"Of course not," Michael said sternly. "That would have broken the Canaanite Accords and stripped me of my Grace, my position, everything I've worked for."

"But Cas  _is_ dead," Dean faltered. "And the Accords were broken?"

"Yes," Michael said. He sounded sad, almost disappointed. "I gave clear instructions that Castiel was not to be harmed. It seems there was a… clerical error."

"A clerical error!" Dean shrieked. "How the fuck does someone end up dead because of a clerical error?"

"You're getting unnecessarily overwrought," Michael said calmly. "Castiel was mistakenly placed in a room with another prisoner, one who hated him enough to exact a terrible revenge. It was… unfortunate."

"Bullshit," Dean snarled. "You engineered this somehow. Just enough to wiggle out of the backlash when the Accords were broken."

"I really am not nearly as devious as you seem to think. Perhaps you are confusing me with my brother, Lucifer." Michael closed the door and walked over to Dean, a slight smile on his face. "But it's true that Castiel's death does remove one obstacle in my path. Call it serendipity, perhaps."

"Whatever," Dean said dismissively. "So why are we here?" The mark of Cas's name on his arm seemed to throb.

"I thought perhaps you might have come to your senses," Michael said, his tone sweetly reasonable. He was standing quite close now, and his eyes seemed to glow as they roamed Dean's face.

"What, you think losing Cas means I'm just gonna show my belly and let you in? Forget it!" Dean said, making a slashing motion with his arm. He desperately wanted to step away but Michael's will was holding him in place. "The answer's no. The answer's always gonna be no. Now why don't you leave me alone and go bug someone else?"

Michael drew in a long, slow breath and leaned forward, so close to Dean's ear that he could feel the angel's breath. Angels didn't need oxygen, Dean thought crazily, so why is he bothering?

"It makes us seem more human," Michael said, his lips brushing Dean's ear. If he could have jumped backwards away from the archangel he would have. Nausea roiled in his gut.

"Why do you care?" Dean stuttered.

"Because not breathing reminds you I'm not human, in some primitive way," Michael explained, still terrifyingly close. He turned his head and his nose slid over Dean's skin. "When things look almost, but not quite human, it can be quite disturbing I'm told." One hand snaked around Dean's waist and he struggled against Michael's iron grip. The archangel jerked him closer, so that their bodies were pressed together. Horror pressed at Dean's chest, making it hard to breathe.

"Please," he begged. "Don't do this."

"I'm not doing anything," Michael said. He kissed the side of Dean's neck and the hunter jack-knifed, his sudden and intense reaction overriding Michael's mind control and he shoved himself away.

"Get. The fuck. Away. From. Me," Dean gritted out.

"Dean," Michael said, like he was a badly behaved puppy. "Why do you resist? What can you possibly think you have to gain?"

"You sound just like Lucifer, you know that?" Dean said desperately. "He says the same shit to Sam. And pulls the same tricks. Well it won't work. Not on me, and not on him."

"You know, I think I've been more than patient," Michael said in a harder voice. "I put up with your repellent dalliance with Castiel, have endured your constant refusal to fulfill your destiny and now I have to listen to your insults too? It cannot be borne!"

"Yeah, well, tough cookies," Dean said defiantly. "Free will's a bitch, ain't it?"

"Free will," Michael snarled. He darted forward, shoving Dean backwards against a wall and crushed their mouths together. The kiss was barely a kiss, a savage, biting demand that mostly made Dean want to vomit except for a tiny twisted part of him that begged him to submit. It was like a bell chiming inside him, a sense of rightness, of wholeness and his soul seemed to wail at the conflict between that and his love for Cas. He pushed uselessly at Michael's shoulders but the archangel was so strong and Dean realized to his horror that his will was beginning to crumble.

"Dean," a voice rumbled in his ear. Cas's voice. It was like being electrocuted. Dean went utterly rigid at that heartbreakingly familiar sound. Somehow he found the strength to shove Michael away, and he gaped as the archangel went sprawling. Michael's mouth hung open in astonishment.

"I said no," Dean told him. "We're done here." He stalked past the gobsmacked angel and opened the door. Outside it was totally black, without a hint of light. Dean didn't care, he closed his eyes and stepped into the darkness.

* * *

 

"Dean!" Sam yelled, shaking the unconscious body of his brother.

"It's no good, Sam," Gabriel said. "He's not going to wake up."

"Why not," Sam demanded. "He was in bad shape before but he was awake and aware. I go away for two minutes and now he's in a coma?"

"My brother's playing games," Gabriel explained, his mouth thinning with distaste. "Dean reeks of his Grace."

"Michael?" Sam asked. He managed to gather his brother into his arms and placed him gently on the bed. Dean was pale and sweating, his lips moving slightly as if he were speaking.

"He obviously thinks he can leverage Castiel's death somehow," Gabriel sighed.

"So what do we do?" Sam begged, his ability to think straight derailed by Dean's sudden decline. "Dean wanted to go see Chuck."

"Why don't I go pick him up?" Gabriel suggested.

Sam nodded eagerly. "Oh, would you? That would be..." His lower lip wobbled and he sucked in air and tried to steady his nerves. He pulled out his phone and showed Chuck's address to Gabriel. The archangel vanished with a click of his fingers. He was back moments later, a disturbed look on his face.

"Don't tell me," Sam groaned. "He's gone."

"Completely," Gabriel told him. "The house had been stripped of everything that wasn't nailed down. And someone went to a lot of trouble to make sure there was no trail to follow. It's like he never existed."

"Great," Sam said. He watched as Dean twitched and moaned on the bed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Gabriel frowned and pushed up Dean's sleeve and examined his bonding mark. The skin around it was red and inflamed and sickly black veins snaked out in all directions.

"That does not look good," Sam said.

"The broken bond has wounded your brother's soul," Gabriel said.

"Well, can't you heal it?" Sam demanded.

Gabriel cast a helpless look at him. "Not me. Only my father has that kind of power."

There was a knock at the door and Bobby poked his head in. "How's he doing?" he asked, not looking at Sam or Gabriel.

"How do you think?" Sam snapped, and bit his lip as Bobby flinched. "It's bad, Bobby."

"I'm sorry, Sam," the grizzled old hunter said. Sam had never heard him so close to tears before.

"Sorry doesn't bring Castiel back," Gabriel growled. Sam placed a hand on his arm and he subsided. "But my brother has a way of making himself intolerable."

"So what do we do?" Bobby said.

"Regroup, gather intel and make a plan," Gabriel stated confidently. "Losing Dean hurts us, but it hurts Michael too. Sam and I need to complete our bond, so we can cut Luci out of the picture. Let's focus on that for now."

Bobby nodded and withdrew. Sam looked at the archangel with trepidation.

"Having second thoughts?" Gabriel said mildly, but he radiated tension.

"No," Sam said emphatically. "But… uh… we never finished our discussion on… location. On my body. For the mark."

"Oh. Well. Uh, maybe we should talk about this elsewhere," Gabriel said, the tips of his ears going pink. Sam stared curiously, was Gabriel embarrassed? The idea seemed unthinkable.

"OK, lemme make sure Dean's comfortable and then I'll meet you downstairs."

* * *

 

Sam found Gabriel lounging on Bobby's couch, but Bobby was nowhere to be seen.

"Don't tell me you chased him out of his own house?" he said.

Gabriel grinned at him. "Nah. He said he needed to go pick up more beer and whiskey. Maybe even some food. I offered to just snap up whatever he needed but he said it wasn't the same."

"He's giving us some space," Sam surmised.

"I would say so, yes."

"So… mark?" Sam stuttered, suddenly nervous.

Gabriel grabbed an old envelope and a pencil and sketched out an Enochian symbol. "This is my name," he said. Then he sketched another one. "This one says 'Sam'."

Sam nodded as he looked at Gabriel's sigil. "It's more ornate than I expected."

"I may have gussied it up a little," the archangel admitted. "I'm not a savage."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Sam demanded.

"Castiel's sigil on your brother is a little… basic. It literally just says 'Cas', like I dunno, the way you humans write your name on things. 'Sam was here', that kind of thing."

"That's probably Dean's influence," Sam said. "He wouldn't want anything too elaborate. So what else does your's say?"

"It's not so much that it says anything else. It's more like the difference between scribbling your name on a spare piece of paper and carefully crafting a work of art." But Gabriel wasn't meeting his eyes suddenly and Sam was getting suspicious.

"You're talking about artistic flourishes," he said.

"Right. Right. Artistic."

"Gabriel," Sam said warningly.

Gabriel winced. "I should have known not to try and put anything past you. OK, maybe there's another layer, if you like."

"What kind of 'layer'?" Sam growled.

Gabriel cleared his throat nervously. "Ownership."

"What do you mean, ownership?" Sam said breathlessly.

"Well, you seemed to like the idea of a public mark that proclaims you as mine to the world. This is more like a uh… collar." Spots appeared in front of Sam's eyes as he stopped breathing altogether. "Look, it was a bad idea, I'm sorry," the archangel started babbling. "I got carried away." He reached out to take the envelope back from Sam and raised his eyebrows when Sam snatched it out of reach.

"Spit it out," Sam grated. "What  _exactly_  did you do?"

Gabriel swallowed hard and then met Sam's eyes. " _Everyone_  who sees it, regardless of whether they speak Enochian or not, will understand that you are utterly and completely  _mine_ and I  _do not share_."

"Which means it has to go somewhere visible," Sam managed.

"Yes. But like I say, it wasn't a good idea-"

Sam dropped to his knees in front of Gabriel and bared his neck. "Do it."

"Sam…"

"Do it. Claim me, mark me as yours and let the world know it." Sam waited as Gabriel appeared to wrestle with himself.

"We could do this piece later," he hedged. "Why don't I just do the basic sigil and if you want me to do the other part after that then we can."

"No," Sam said. "I want this. I want you. I love you and I trust you."

"OK," Gabriel said. He gave Sam a gentle kiss on the neck. "And do you know where you want to mark me?"

"Here," Sam said, placing one hand where Gabriel's heart would be.

"Done," the archangel agreed. "OK, this is simple." He placed his right hand on Sam's neck, up near the back of his ear. "Is this OK?"

"Yes."

Gabriel said a few words in Enochian and Sam felt a hot sensation where the archangel's hand touched his skin. "OK. Now, place your hand where you want the mark to go, yes, like that. Now repeat after me."

Sam repeated Gabriel's incantation, slowly so that he wouldn't mess up the pronunciation, and when he felt his hand begin to heat he almost yanked it away instinctively. Luckily, Gabriel had anticipated this might happen and his hand shot out and held Sam's in place.

Suddenly, Sam felt a crashing wave of power and emotion sweep over him. He opened his eyes to see Gabriel staring at him hungrily. The archangel yanked him close and covered Sam's mouth with his own. One hand tangled painfully in Sam's hair as he tugged his head back and bit down savagely on the cords of his neck. Sam howled as he felt Gabriel's teeth break his skin and the strange twin sensation of his blood being taken and somehow the reflected feeling of taking blood made him feel dizzy.

"Wait," he said weakly.

"No time, Sam," Gabriel wheezed. "You have to take my blood now."

Sam obeyed, taking his cue from his lover and biting down on the soft skin of Gabriel's neck. He gasped as the bright sensation of the archangel's blood flooded over his tongue and sent sparks of electricity through his body.

"I told you," Gabriel panted. "That we'd share… emotions. Feelings. Thoughts. I… we need to get somewhere… private..."

"No. Here, now" Sam managed, almost overwhelmed with desire and love. He grabbed Gabriel and crushed their bodies together, tearing at their clothes in an insane need to couple with his newly bonded angel right that instant.

"Right," Gabriel agreed, pushing Sam onto his back and straddling him. "Here and now."

* * *

 

The man currently lounging in an old leather armchair by the fire gestured lazily to his visitor, who was standing stiffly by the door.

"Come in, brother mine. Don't hover. Help yourself to some brandy."

"No, thank you, Lucifer. I came here to talk, not to pollute my vessel with poison." Michael entered the room and looked around curiously. Lucifer, whose current vessel was definitely starting to look the worse for wear, eyed him up and down. Michael's vessel was a blond-haired young man he did not recognize.

"Who the Hell are you wearing?"

"Adam Milligan. Sam and Dean's half-brother, on their dad's side." Michael shrugged. "He'll do. For now at least."

"Classy," Lucifer snarked. "So what do you want? It's not time for us to meet, neither of us is in our True Vessels and there are many other conditions still to be met."

"True. But if we don't act now, we'll never get there," Michael said coldly. "Dean and Castiel bonded, which would have been disastrous had I not taken steps to manage the situation."

"Manage the situation? You killed him. And somehow avoided the backlash from the breaking of the Canaanite Accords." Lucifer looked impressed. "How did you do that, by the way?"

"Same way as you manage to keep your hands clean of your many sins," Michael said. "I delegate responsibility and make sure my people are capable of anticipating my wishes."

Lucifer shivered at the thought. He liked aides who understood his wishes too, but Michael's statement was way beyond anything he would approve of.

"So why are you here? Why are you telling me this?" he demanded.

"Because Gabriel is about to do the same with Sam!" Michael cried.

"Nonsense," Lucifer said, snorting in derision. "I've got Sam wound tightly around my fingers, believe me," He waggled his eyebrows lasciviously and laughed when Michael looked uncomfortable.

"Dean thinks otherwise, and I've learned not to underestimate him," Michael said tightly. "We need to make sure everything proceeds according to plan."

"You know, it's odd," Lucifer observed. "It really was much less difficult for Lilith to break the 66 seals than she or I had anticipated. We even had a few rogue angels help us out with some of the trickier ones." He sat up straighter and stared Michael in the eyes. "If I can't take possession of my True Vessel, you're at an advantage. So, tell me, brother, is this all so much kabuki theater?"

"I don't know what that means."

"You want the Apocalypse. You want to meet me, at Stull, and fight. You  _want_  to kill me. Your brother, whom you claim to love." Lucifer stood up now, all pretence at indolence discarded. "None of my plans or schemes can hold a candle to what you've done, the machinations necessary to get us to this point."

"What of it?" Michael said dismissively. "We cannot escape destiny."

"Destiny," Lucifer spat. "Dad's playing games with us, as usual. I don't know if he wants this, and I don't care. We don't have to let him jerk us around like puppets."

"Are you seriously going to try and talk me out of this?" Michael was incredulous. "I am a good son!"

"Oh yes, you are," Lucifer snarled. "But Daddy loved me more than you. Me, the rebel. The outcast. Even after I was ejected from Heaven, he still spoke to me more than any of you."

"You lie!" Michael screamed and Lucifer took a step back in surprise.

"I don't lie, Michael. You know that. I never  _lie_." Michael's face was contorted with rage and Lucifer began to wonder if he'd miscalculated. "Brother, we cannot fight. Not here, not like this."

Michael inhaled slowly and began to calm down. "No. You're right, for once. Very well. What do you plan to do about your vessel?"

"It's all in hand. You should spend more time worrying about your own," Lucifer advised.

"Dean will do as he is bid," Michael said dismissively. Lucifer blinked, hadn't he just been complaining about Dean bonding with Castiel? "I have bigger problems to deal with now."

"I see," Lucifer said. After a pause where Michael just stared at him, he added, "Anything I can do to help? Since you're so keen to stick to the script."

"Perhaps," Michael said. "I've been cleaning house, purging Heaven of rebels and dissent."

"I'd heard," Lucifer said neutrally, not wishing Michael to sense his distaste. "You've been quite zealous, I understand."

"It's simple," Michael told him. "I cannot tolerate followers who doubt me, who gossip and plot against me. That photo of Dean and Castiel you managed to sneak into Heaven made me realize I had been far too lenient."

Lucifer froze. "I didn't sneak anything into Heaven. I'm not saying I wouldn't have done so, but I can't access Heaven right now. You banished me, remember?"

"Doesn't mean you haven't corrupted one of the Host into helping you," Michael snarled. "I still haven't found the mole, but I will, I swear."

"I'm serious, Michael. I did not do this. There is no mole that I know of. Uriel and select members of his garrison were my only agents, and they are all dead." Lucifer wondered if one of his demons had 'anticipated' his wishes, in the way Michael seemed so enamoured of. He'd have to investigate.

"More lies," Michael said, his voice dripping with scorn. "I know what you did." He shook his head, like a disappointed parent. "You know we wouldn't be in this mess if you'd just obeyed our Father. Why couldn't you just do what you were told?"

Lucifer thought that was a rhetorical question. "What's done is done."

Michael suddenly darted forward and grabbed his shirt, growling directly into his face. "I will enjoy killing you, brother," he said. His eyes were wild, the pupils enlarged and he was breathing heavily. There was an ominous tearing sound as the fabric of Lucifer's shirt gave way and he heard buttons falling onto the floor. Michael swallowed and his gaze was riveted on Lucifer's mouth. Fear, cold and insidious, snaked down Lucifer's spine. What the Hell was going on? He'd dealt with his big brother in every emotional state under the sun. Except this one, which on anyone else would look like lust. It didn't make sense, Lucifer had never gotten this kind of vibe from Michael before.

Michael shoved Lucifer backwards and in this weak, damaged vessel he was no match for his brother's strength. He tumbled onto the floor and Michael gave a whoop of triumph before straddling his hips and pinning his arms above his head.

"Michael, we can't--" His words were cut off by Michael swooping down and kissing him, a full open-mouthed kiss that Lucifer neither expected nor wanted. He struggled as Michael thrust his tongue into his mouth and lacking other options, bit down hard. Michael howled in pain and pushed himself away from his brother, scrambling back and using the armchair to get back on his feet. Blood was smeared across his chin and he was gaping at Lucifer in astonishment.

"You disgust me," he sneered. "Forcing your filthy, forbidden lust on me. How dare you?"

Lucifer's head was spinning in confusion. He couldn't move, just stared up at Michael in shock and terror.

"We shan't meet again, until the battle is met. Farewell, Lucifer." He stalked out of the room, slamming the door hard behind him and Lucifer exhaled in relief. The door opened again and he lifted his head in alarm.

"Sire?" Mackenzie said, poking her head into the room. "Is everything OK?"

"I don't know," Lucifer sighed, letting his head fall back against the floor. "I think my brother might have lost his mind."


	19. Chapter 19

"Ugh," Crowley said, sitting up in bed and pushing the comforter aside as Simmons and Dorian filed in dutifully. "I suppose I'm summoned." There was a groan from under the covers and Simmons concealed a smile.

"Yes, sir, I'm sorry," she said. "Lord Lucifer wants to know how the photo of Dean Winchester and the angel Castiel came to be distributed all over Heaven."

"What?" Crowley said distractedly. "I thought that was his doing."

Simmons shrugged, and gave him a lopsided grin. "I'm just the messenger."

Dorian shifted and looked guilty. "You mean, Dorian was the messenger but was too chicken to face me alone and you, for some unknown reason, decided to take the heat," Crowley said.

"Not exactly," Simmons said. "But I had news for you and I thought you needed to hear this before you met with Lord Lucifer. Dorian refused to let me go first, unless I agreed to also pass on his message."

"Really?" Crowley said. "Fine. What's your news?"

"Actually two things. Firstly, I'm cultivating Lord Lucifer's aide, Mackenzie. She says Michael came to Lord Lucifer's current retreat in Atlanta to meet with him. She doesn't know what they discussed but apparently she came across our glorious leader lying on the floor with his clothes half ripped off and blood on his mouth."

"Really?" Crowley interrupted, reeling at the image his aide had painted in his mind.

"Secondly, Lugh has requested a meeting."

Crowley stared at her. "Why?"

"He wouldn't say." Simmons looked irritated.

"I take it you were insistent." Crowley surmised.

"I would say so. But he was unmoved. Something's up with him, sir. He seems… different." Simmons looked over to Dorian. "It's hard to describe. Like someone drained him of all his…" She waved her hands expressively. "Joy."

Crowley's eyebrows shot up. "Do tell."

"Like I say, it's very difficult to explain." She huffed out a breath.

"Fine. Let me go meet with Lucifer and then I'll deal with Lugh."

* * *

Bobby had done things he'd regretted before, he certainly wasn't new to the sensation of guilt. But this might be a new low. He'd betrayed Dean and they were all paying the price for it. He shook his head.

"You're a drunken old idjit," he told his reflection in the rear view mirror. As he pulled up to the gate of his junkyard home, the headlights of the beat-up Ford truck caught on a pile of rags on the ground. He frowned. No way they had been there when he left and he doubted Sam or Gabriel would have just dumped trash here like this. And then the bundle moved and Bobby clambered awkwardly out of the truck, grabbing his shotgun.

"All right, don't move," he said pugnaciously.

The rag pile lifted a head and Bobby almost let the barrel drop at the sight of Zachariah's face. He was black and blue, there was blood smeared across his cheeks and it looked like his nose might be broken.

"What the Hell happened to you?" Bobby said incredulously. "And what are you doing here?"

"Mic- uh, my boss and I had a disagreement," Zachariah said plaintively. "He stripped me of my Grace, beat the crap out of me and dumped me in Des Moines. I had nowhere else to go, I know nobody on earth who'll still talk to me, so I walked."

"Des Moines is nearly three hundred miles away!" Bobby gasped.

"Tell me about it," Zachariah said tiredly.

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't just leave you out here to rot," the old hunter snarled.

"If you leave me out here, I'll die," the angel said simply.

"Not my problem," Bobby told him.

"All right, fair enough. How about this, I know things. Important things. About the war, about Mi-" Zachariah shook his head with a bitter laugh. "Gotta get used to not saying his name I guess."

"Hmm," Bobby said. "I gotta run this past the boys."

"I'll be here," Zachariah said. He shuffled out of the way to let Bobby open the gate. Bobby took one last look at him, then climbed into the truck and drove into the yard.

Whatever he had expected to see when he opened the door to the house, it was not a very naked Sam and an equally nude Gabriel lying passed out on the floor. Grumbling to himself but not really feeling empowered to complain, he dumped the groceries and alcoholic beverages he'd bought on the kitchen table.

"Bobby," Gabriel said coldly.

"Uh, hey," he said, turning around. The archangel had thankfully managed to find some pants. "I uh, didn't mean to interrupt."

Sam appeared behind Gabriel, one hand placed on his shoulder. "Hey Bobby."

"How's Dean?"

"There's no change," Sam told him, his face downcast. "At least he's not getting worse."

"So, I got a new problem for ya," Bobby said, tension drawing new lines on his skin.

"Oh, wonderful," Gabriel said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. Sam squeezed his shoulder and he looked up at the hunter affectionately. Bobby's eyes pricked with the sudden threat of tears.

He swallowed hard. "Zachariah's outside the gate. He's been stripped of his Grace and he's injured, at least that's what he claims. And he supposedly walked here from Des Moines."

"That's a long walk," Sam said, his eyes widening. "Are you sure he's legit?"

"No, I'm not sure!" the old hunter exclaimed. "Why do you think I left him outside the wards?"

"Let's go check it out," Gabriel said. "I'm not particularly well disposed towards him but he is my brother."

The three of them trooped out to find Zachariah huddled where Bobby had left him.

"Well, he's telling the truth about his Grace," Gabriel confirmed.

"Gabriel," Zachariah said weakly. "I see rumors of your demise were greatly exaggerated."

"Hello, Zach," Gabriel said icily. "Had a little run in with big bro did we?"

Zachariah grimaced. "Bartholomew sold me out, the little snake. Claimed I was behind that disgusting photo of Castiel and Dean Winchester that kicked off this whole mess."

"But you say it wasn't you?" Sam said disbelief evident in his tone. "Sounds like the kind of shit you'd pull."

"Don't be stupid," Zachariah snarled. "Pissing off Mi- uh, my brother, is the last thing anyone sane wants to do. Which raises a number of questions about  _your_  brother's sanity."

"Look, we don't have to help you," Bobby pointed out. "So watch yer tongue."

"Fine, fine. I'm sorry," Zachariah said, although he didn't look very apologetic. "Look, you can hate me all you want, but Heaven's done with me and I want to live. So if I need to purchase my life with information, I'll do it."

Gabriel eyed him suspiciously. "OK. But you can't stay here."

"Where else can I go?" Zachariah said angrily.

"You're not sending him to San Francisco," Sam interjected. Gabriel shook his head.

"Call Crowley, Sam. Maybe he and uh… his special friend might have an idea."

* * *

"Crowley," Lucifer said, standing by the window of the expensive townhouse in the Beacon Hill area of Boston. How he'd come by it, or why he even wanted it, Crowley didn't know and didn't care to ask. It was beautifully appointed however, and more understated than his liege's usual taste.

"My lord," he said, respectfully. Lucifer was pensive and this made him apprehensive.

"Crowley, a matter of some considerable concern has come to my attention." The demon gulped anxiously, hoping this did not mean someone had told Lucifer about Balthazar. That would not be good news. Luck however was smiling on him today. "My brother, Michael. You know we are destined to meet on the field of battle and fight for dominion over the earth."

"Yes," Crowley said, puzzled. None of this was a secret.

"Well, it seems things have… derailed slightly. My brother has gone completely insane." Lucifer turned away from the window and walked slowly over to Crowley. His face was marked with distress and there was none of his usual snarky demeanor.

"Won't that make him easier to beat?" Crowley offered. Lucifer was clearly dreadfully upset, a state Crowley had never seen his master in. He shifted and his foot skidded on something. Looking down, he saw a couple of shirt buttons on the floor. So there was  _something_ to the story Simmons had reported. What on earth had gone down in this room?

"No," Lucifer snapped. "There are things that have to happen, before we can meet. Important things. I never wanted to do this Apocalypse nonsense in the first place, but I'll be damned if I'm going to be robbed of my chance to return to Heaven."

"I see," said Crowley, who didn't.

Lucifer shook his head at him in mock despair. "Apparently not. It doesn't matter. What does matter is that with Michael off in la la land, we have to come up with a new plan."

"What exactly do you want to achieve?" Crowley asked, narrowing his eyes. "I can plan anything as long as I know the objectives."

"To return to my rightful place, of course," Lucifer said. He made a gesture with one hand. "As ruler of Heaven in my father's absence."

"OK. What about earth?" Crowley pressed.

Lucifer gave a disdainful shrug. "I don't care, really."

"And Sam Winchester?" He winced, anticipating Lucifer's wrath.

"My vessel? I don't  _need_  a vessel if I can return to Heaven. He'll come begging to me sooner or later anyway. No True Vessel can resist their angel forever."

Crowley didn't trust himself to comment further. "OK. What about Hell?"

"Ugh," Lucifer complained. "Look, if I take over Heaven, we go back to how it was before Sam sprung me from the Cage, except I'll be in charge upstairs. You demons can go back to deal making and tempting souls, the humans can go back to… whatever it is they do. I'll whip Heaven into shape, and we return to those halcyon days before I was… forced to leave."

"If you promise to leave earth as it is, and confine any fighting to Heaven, I might be able to convince some unlikely allies to help you," Crowley said.

"Sounds intriguing," Lucifer said, his eyes lighting up.

"Let me reach out to them first," Crowley said. "I find out who's on board and then we figure out the next steps."

"I leave it your capable hands," Lucifer said.

As soon as he appeared back in his own office, Crowley could feel something had changed. Balthazar was sitting in his chair, looking conflicted. Simmons was hovering anxiously.

"What's going on?" he demanded.

"Zachariah has been ejected from Heaven," Balthazar said. "He was supposed to be executed, I don't know why he is still alive. He's mortal though, and in pretty bad shape. He just showed up at Bobby Singer's house. I just got off the phone with Sam and Gabriel."

"And?" Crowley said.

"And he apparently is angry enough at… my brother that he wants to switch sides. He's offering intel in return for his life." Balthazar looked repelled at the idea. "Zach's a lying toerag, I don't know if this is a good idea. Sam Winchester's a bleeding heart so he won't do the right thing. And Gabriel's so googly-eyed over him he won't see sense either."

"The plot thickens," Crowley said opaquely. Balthazar frowned at him. "Lucifer is concerned that your dear old big brother might have lost his marbles."

Balthazar considered it, his head tilting to one side. "It's not impossible. He was acting very strangely before I left. It's part of  _why_  I left."

"Well, Lucifer wants a new plan. A plan that does away with Apocalypses and destroying the earth and all that nonsense," Crowley declared. "I'm not a hundred percent sure I believe him but I think it's worth a discussion."

"All right," Balthazar said. "I'll call Sam back, tell him to expect us soon."

"Sir," Simmons said, shifting from foot to foot.

"I know, Simmons, I haven't forgotten. Where is he?"

"In the sunroom," Simmons told him. "Do you want me to bring something to drink?"

"No," Crowley decided. "I don't think he'll stay long."

* * *

Lugh was standing by one of the large windows staring out across the plantation grounds. His hands were clasped behind his back, and his stance was rigid.

"Lugh," Crowley said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "What can I do for you today?"

Lugh turned around and Crowley took a step back in shock. The Tuatha de Danaan's face was thin and his skin had an unhealthy grey cast. Dark shadows under his eyes and a bleak look in his eyes completed the effect of someone who'd undergone considerable trauma.

"Crowley," Lugh said, nodding gravely. "Thank you for agreeing to see me."

"I uh. Sure. What… Are you OK?" It wasn't like Crowley to be lost for words but the sight of Lugh's transformation was stunning.

"I was taught a lesson. Actually, two. One, don't trust angels and two, be careful what you wish for." Lugh's tone was bitter and angry, but there was a fair amount of self-recrimination thrown into the mix.

"If you're looking to me for some way to get revenge on an angel that's wronged you-" Crowley started but Lugh made an abrupt gesture.

"No. There's nothing you can do. I will deal with Castiel myself."

"That'll be a neat trick," Crowley said, watching Lugh carefully. "He's dead."

"Don't lie to me, Crowley," Lugh said tiredly. "I really don't have the patience."

"It's true," Crowley said. "Things in Heaven are complicated these days, it seems. Hell's a veritable paradise of fellow feeling in comparison."

"Ah," Lugh said. "Things have moved faster than I had anticipated then."

Crowley narrowed his eyes at him. "Are you saying you know something about the shenanigans upstairs?"

"Know something?" Lugh's lips quirked, almost but not quite reaching a smile. "You could say I've… facilitated matters."

"I see," Crowley said. He kept his face neutral but his mind was racing. How much of what had happened had Lugh's fingerprints on it? Did he realize how dangerous a game this was?

"So, you asked to see me," Crowley said. "Was there something specific you wanted?"

"Yes," Lugh said. "I've heard rumors that you might be interested in a certain piece being taken off the Apocalypse chess board."

"Oh really?" Crowley said, folding his arms. "What are you proposing?"

"I have gained access to the enemy camp, so to speak. At great personal cost, I might add. And I have a weapon that can do the deed." Lugh's eyes burned almost feverishly with zeal.

"Well, a month or so ago that would have been real interesting," Crowley admitted. "But the situation's changed. The chess piece you refer to has gone around the bend. To the point that even my superior is worried and formulating alternative plans."

"So you won't help me?" Lugh snarled.

"I didn't say that, just that doing what you propose might be more challenging than you realize." Crowley demurred. "If you already have access and a suitable weapon, I'm not sure what you need from me."

"It's simple," Lugh said. "I need a distraction."

"A distraction," Crowley said slowly. "You mean, keep Heaven's eye off the ball while you sneak in and cut off the head of the snake?"

"Exactly," Lugh said.

Crowley's mouth twisted. "Might be tricky. And I'd have to clear it with the boss."

"Since when do you take orders from Lucifer?" Lugh sneered.

"Since he decided that maybe Armageddon wasn't the only way to achieve his goals," Crowley said bluntly.

Lugh's eyes closed briefly and then opened again. "This changes nothing. But maybe I should be dealing with the organ-grinder rather than the monkey."

Crowley grinned at him. "Sure. This monkey knows when to dance and when to sit still. Do you want me to set up a meeting?"

Lugh didn't answer and Crowley wondered if he'd even heard him. Eventually, Lugh nodded. "Yes. Please."

"I'll even do it for free," Crowley said magnanimously. "As a favor to an old friend."

"You're too kind," Lugh said dryly.

* * *

"Hey," Sam said, nudging Gabriel from his doze with his shoulder. "Balthazar just called. Him and Crowley have news."

"What kind of news?" Gabriel said sleepily. Sam leaned in and kissed him softly and groaned when the archangel opened his mouth and lazily curled his tongue around Sam's.

"Ahem," Crowley said theatrically.

Gabriel disengaged from Sam and turned his head to glare at Crowley, who smirked at him and Balthazar, who looked uncomfortable.

"So, you said you had news," Sam said quickly.

"Oh yeah," Balthazar said. "But you're not going to like it."

"So what else is new?" Bobby growled. "Are you here for Zachariah?"

"Partly," Crowley said. "Where is he anyway?"

"The panic room," Sam said. "We patched him up and then locked him in there. Just in case."

Crowley nodded approvingly. "Smart." He looked Sam up and down and opened his mouth, swallowing hard before closing it again without speaking. "How's Dean?"

"There's no change," Sam said woodenly. "Get on with it." He made an impatient gesture.

"So, my boss, Lucifer," Crowley started, eyeing Sam warily. "He uh, he called me in for a chit-chat. Apparently his brother paid him a little visit. A visit so deranged, so utterly unhinged that  _Lucifer_ is worried. And considering his options."

"Options?" Sam asked.

"As things stand, the Apocalypse is officially already derailed," Crowley said. "There's a sequence to these things, as I understand it. The prophecy isn't just a prediction of what will happen, it's more like a roadmap. Follow these steps, in this way and events will unfold as described."

"And my brother is falling down on the job, so to speak," Gabriel concluded.

"Yes," Crowley said. "According to the demonic seers I spoke to, we're way off course. And behind schedule."

"But that's good, isn't it?" Sam objected. "For us I mean, the ones who don't want the world to end."

"Oh sure," Crowley said. "But Lucifer never wanted the war, he just wants to go home."

"And be crowned ruler of Heaven," Gabriel pointed out.

"That too," Crowley said. "If he can get it without dancing to daddy's tune, so much the better."

"So what does he want to do?" Bobby growled.

"For now? Just meet. Talk about possible alternate plans." Crowley said. "Do we have a deal? Lucifer's promised not to ask you to agree to hosting him."

Sam's mouth quirked as he suppressed a smile. Of course, Lucifer didn't know that he'd completed his bonding with Gabriel and was safe.

_Don't get too cocky. My brother's still very dangerous. To you in particular._ Gabriel's voice echoed in his mind. Sam sobered.

"I think we need more guarantee of safety than the word of a demon and the devil," Sam said.

"Fair enough," Crowley said. "Balthazar said you'd say that."

The angel nodded. "Right. So I have a suggestion. Lucifer will agree to meet you from within a ring of holy fire. You'll be outside and totally safe. Crowley here will enter a devil's trap as well."

Crowley gave Balthazar a look that suggested that this had been the source of some friction between them.

"So, what do you think?" Crowley asked. Sam exchanged looks with Gabriel and Bobby.

"It's up to you," Gabriel said. "I'll support whatever decision you make."

"What he said," Bobby said solemnly.

Was that supposed to make the decision easier? He didn't know what to do.

_Help me out here, Gabriel. I don't think I can make this decision alone,_ Sam said plaintively through the mental link they now shared.

_Hey, it's OK. Do you want to know my opinion? I think we should take the risk. Lucifer's dangerous but the precautions Crowley and Balthazar propose should be enough to ensure your safety. And they're not expecting me to be there._ Gabriel sounded reassuring, to Sam's relief.

"What about Zachariah?" Sam asked aloud.

"What about him?" Crowley said dismissively.

"Should we bring him along?"

"Ugh, why?" Balthazar said expressively.

"He said he has intel," Sam said mildly.

"I don't know," Balthazar said. "I don't trust him."

"He's been stripped of his Grace," Sam said. "There's nothing he can do."

"It's your funeral," Balthazar said.


	20. Chapter 20

Sam poured out the last of the holy oil onto the circle he'd inscribed in Bobby's yard and gave Gabriel a nervous look. "You're sure this can hold him?"

"I swear," the archangel promised. He added the finishing touches to the devil's trap he'd marked out nearby. Sam came over to inspect his handiwork.

"That's not normally part of a devil's trap," he said, pointing to some additional symbols Gabriel had spray-painted outside the familiar lines.

"A little extra protection. Crowley's probably on the level, but let's not be stupid. Lucifer's more powerful than I am and I could probably break a regular devil's trap even when in a circle of holy fire." Gabriel grinned at Sam, but the effect was ruined by the evident strain.

"You hate this," Sam observed, brushing his fingers across Gabriel's cheek.

"Of course," Gabriel agreed. "I never wanted any of this, remember. Except you." This smile was more genuine and Sam couldn't help but lean forward and kiss him.

"All right," Bobby said, grunting under Zachariah's weight as he helped him walk. "You sit here and keep your trap shut." He dumped the angel unceremoniously in an old folding chair. Zachariah winced and nodded. "Are we ready?"

"As we'll ever be," Gabriel said, nodding at Balthazar, who was standing by the gate. Balthazar opened it and depowered the wards.

Sam staggered at the sheer sense of power when he saw Lucifer appear in the circle of oil as agreed. He lit his Zippo and dropped it to the ground, watching the flames leap up and reflect in Lucifer's eyes. Crowley sauntered in and peered at Gabriel's modified devil's trap with curiosity, but he clearly didn't see anything that gave him reason to balk.

"Now, you better let me out of here when we're done," he said warningly. And then he stepped into the trap, and let out a yelp. "Hell's teeth," he muttered.

"Something wrong?" Bobby asked, looking bored.

"These enhancements," Crowley panted. "They're… heavy." He was sweating and his shoulders bowed under the strain the trap was exerting on him.

"Sorry," Gabriel said, not sounding sorry at all.

Sam ignored them, keeping his focus on Lucifer. The archangel wasn't paying much attention to him right now, seeming more interested in the sight of Gabriel. His eyes were wide and his expression unfathomable.

"Gabriel," he breathed. "You're bonded. Who's the lucky-" He broke off and turned horrified eyes on Sam. His eyes shimmered and for a mad moment Sam was sure he might cry. The idea was bizarre. " _Sam…"_  Lucifer whispered. He sounded devastated, which wasn't at all the reaction Sam had expected. His gaze was riveted to the mark on Sam's neck.

Sam quirked his lips in a ghastly imitation of a smile. "Uh, yeah."

Lucifer began to pace inside his flaming circle, raking his hands through his hair and making a peculiar keening sound. Sam turned nervously to look at Crowley, who was staring wide-eyed at his master. Lucifer stopped moving, inches away from the flames. They cast eerie shadows on his face, making him look more like stereotypes of the devil in popular culture. His eyes were fixated on Sam and glowed a sinister red.

"Sam," the devil said once more. "You  _enslaved_  yourself to Gabriel, just to get away from me? Do you know what you've done?" He shook his head and turned his gaze back to Gabriel. "And you… Tell me why, Gabriel. Why would you agree to this? To save him?" Lucifer flung out a hand to point at Sam, and it was shaking violently.

Gabriel shrugged and gave his brother a sheepish grin. "It isn't about you. We fell in love. That's all there is to it."

"Love," Lucifer said derisively. "What do you know of love, Gabriel? He was  _my vessel!_ Mine. And you've turned him into a sex toy."

"Sire, you did say-" Crowley interjected and Lucifer swiveled his head like a striking snake, to fix his minion with burning eyes.

"Silence," he commanded. Crowley closed his mouth with a click. Lucifer returned his attention to Gabriel.

"You realize that this cannot be undone?" Lucifer said. "You're bound to Sam, for all eternity. Even after his death, you'll be screaming for him into the void?" He looked ill, his hands were shaking and his vessel began to disintegrate more visibly. "You should not have done this, brother mine."

"That's not for you to say," Gabriel said, his mild tone overlying a steely resolve. "And it's not why we're here. Sam's mine now, and we're supposed to be discussing Mikey and the turmoil he's causing in Heaven."

Lucifer breathed in sharply through his nose and his face blanked. "You're right. But this conversation is not over, Gabriel." He looked over the anxious faces of Bobby, Balthazar and Zachariah.

"Michael visited me, here on earth, yesterday," he said. His voice sounded rusty and old, like it was an effort to speak. "He's taken your half-brother Adam as a vessel for now," he said to Sam. He wrapped his arms around his body, his gaze dropping to the ground. "After a few moments it became obvious to me that he's had some kind of… what is the human term? Psychotic break?"

"How bad is it, Luci?" Gabriel pressed.

The threatened tears shimmered again in the devil's eyes, before falling silently down his ruined cheeks. "Bad." He swallowed hard and wiped furiously at his eyes. "He… he knocked me down and tried to…" He shook his head and made a helpless gesture. Gabriel's face was a mask of horror. "He pinned me to the ground and kissed me. I bit his tongue and he got angry, accused me of forcing my unholy lust on  _him!_ "

Sam wanted to vomit. He might have no love for Lucifer, but to be so assaulted and betrayed by your brother? He couldn't imagine the pain.

"Father," Gabriel breathed.

"Lies!" Zachariah declared from his chair and then shrank back when Lucifer turned that intolerable gaze on him.

"Why would I lie?" Lucifer asked, his voice a sibilant whisper. "What possible reason could I have to debase myself in front of my enemies and slander Michael in the process?"

"You're after sympathy," Zachariah sneered. "Our brother's been under a lot of pressure. I'm not exactly happy about how he's been behaving. The paranoia, the overzealousness, the insistence on perfection. I agree he's no longer capable of running Heaven. But what you're suggesting is… unthinkable. Blasphemous, even."

"Balthazar," Lucifer said sweetly, a vicious smile on his face. "If you would be so kind as to close Zachariah's mouth for me, I'd be ever so grateful. Or even remove it completely. I'm not fussy."

Balthazar looked irritated and made a gesture towards Zachariah, who looked furious but remained silent.

"Thank you," Lucifer said. He sighed heavily and sat down on the ground crosslegged.

"I'm not agreeing with Zach," Gabriel said cautiously. "But you have to admit it's an outlandish tale. Mikey was always the strait-laced one. I can't imagine what's caused him to snap like this."

"Neither do I," Lucifer retorted. "But we can worry about why later. The problem right now is, the Apocalypse is listing so badly I don't think we can right the ship."

"So?" Bobby spoke up. "You think any of us give a shit about that?"

"You might," Lucifer said, tilting his head back to look at the sky. "Setting these events in motion and then veering wildly off course? These things have… consequences. Forces have been unleashed that cannot be contained. The horsemen ride as we speak, the Antichrist is coming into his power, and of course, I walk the earth for the first time in millennia."

"He's right," Gabriel said heavily. "Much as it pains me to admit it."

"So, what do we do?" Sam asked. He didn't know what to do with this new side of Lucifer. He'd thought he'd seen all the archangel's moods, but this thoughtful, contemplative affect was alien. He thought ruefully that Lucifer hadn't ever really tried to understand him. If he had, this is the face he would have presented, because whereas Sam could dismiss seduction, and was too much of a Winchester to be moved by threats, a sober and reasoned approach might actually have worked. He felt a little dizzy with a combination of relief and fear at that realization, because hot on the heels of that thought was another. Gabriel had presented such a face to him and he'd never thought hard about how out of character it seemed.

It was too late, he loved the archangel and had bound himself to him. But Lucifer's words and the peculiarities of the situation they now faced made him wondered if Gabriel had been completely on the level with him. Was Lucifer right? Had he tumbled into enslavement without thinking of the consequences? He shook his head. Lucifer delighted in setting doubts in peoples minds.

"Lugh wants to kill the ruler of Heaven," Crowley said suddenly. "According to him he has both the means and the opportunity, he just wants a distraction here on earth while he does it."

Shock like a bucket of ice water forced Sam out of his uncomfortable reverie. He gaped at Crowley, not liking the look on the demon's face. Kill Michael? The idea was insane. Dammit, he thought, never trust a demon. They always lie. Something was up, this little conference wasn't what it seemed.

"Luci, I don't think I can do this," Gabriel said firmly. "I don't want to kill any of my brothers. Not even the sniveling sack of shit over there." Zachariah made a sound of protest that was quickly silenced by a glare from Balthazar.

"I thought you'd say that," Lucifer confessed. A slow cruel smile curled over his face. "In fact, I was rather counting on it. You've all been so careful not to say Michael's name, but I've been… rather careless, it seems." He was suddenly on his feet again, his arms spread wide. The ground began to rumble and lightning split the sky with an eardrum bursting crack.

"Get me out of here!" Crowley yelped. Balthazar dashed to his lover's aid, scrubbing out the lines of the devil's trap with one foot. Crowley took one look at the appalled faces in front of him and then grabbed Balthazar's arm and vanished.

"Ugh," Lucifer commented, rolling his eyes. "I should have known he would rabbit." More lightning lit up the yard, the air crackled with static and imminent danger, and Bobby turned to run towards the house. Zachariah began to laugh, maniacally and Sam's head began to pound.

"Gabriel," he managed. "What's happening?"

"Raph's coming," Gabriel told him. "Go get your brother. Luci and I will hold him off."

"But…" Gabriel shoved him towards the house.

"No time, Sam. Go!"

Sam half-ran, half-stumbled towards the house, tripping and almost falling when he entered. "Bobby?"

"I'm here," Bobby said, grabbing some items from his desk.

"Gabriel said we need to get Dean," Sam said urgently.

"OK, let's go," Bobby said.

As soon as Sam had staggered into the house, Gabriel clicked his fingers and the holy fire around Lucifer flared up and then died.

"Thanks," Lucifer said dryly. "Bet you never expected to fighting on my side." His blade slithered into his hand and he settled into a fighting stance.

"Shut up," Gabriel grated. "I am so fucking angry with you right now."

"Temper, temper," Lucifer admonished, wagging his blade at him.

"Lucifer!" Raphael boomed as his vessel appeared suddenly in the yard. The gates rattled with the reverberations. He stalked across the gravel, his feet crunching and raised his blade before he noticed the other person in this melodrama. He blinked in astonishment. "Gabriel?"

"Hey Raph," Gabriel said weakly.

"You're alive? And fighting alongside  _him?_ " Raphael looked revolted.

"War makes strange bedfellows," Gabriel told him. "Look, you know me, I hate the fighting. But I've been hearing a lot of strange rumors coming out of Heaven these days."

"Michael is trying to bring things to a peaceful conclusion," Raphael said. "As was foretold."

"Raphael, you know things are not going as planned," Lucifer insisted. "None of the pieces are in place. One of the horsemen, War, is dead. Famine is powerless and Pestilence will soon join him. Death is missing in action. And my vessel has been rendered unusable." He rubbed the back of his neck. "We're way off the map here, brother."

"I'm not interested in your lies and slander. And Gabriel, I thought better of you." Raphael's nostrils flared with fury. "I regret having to slay a brother. But I cannot tolerate your interference any longer."

"No!" Lucifer declared, blocking Raphael's sudden lunge with his blade. Gabriel had skipped out of the way but it was a close run thing. Raphael hissed and with an elegant half-turn, flicked out his wrist, catching Lucifer on the ribcage. Lucifer roared in pain and kicked Raphael in the face.

The ground began to shake and then the three archangels fell to the ground as a soundless explosion knocked them from their feet.

"What the Hell was that?" Gabriel asked, wincing and rolling to his feet. His blade was out but Raphael and Zachariah were nowhere to be seen. Smoke curled from a scorch mark on the ground. Lucifer was climbing laboriously to his feet, his hand pressed to his side.

"At a guess?" Lucifer said, sounding exhausted. "Lugh's gotten to our brother as planned."

"He's not dead," Gabriel asserted. "I can still feel his Grace."

"No," Lucifer agreed. "It seems Lugh's weapon wasn't quite as effective as he claimed. No matter, he has been… disabled. Can't you feel it? The Gates of Heaven are open to me once more." He sketched out a mocking bow. "I appreciate the assist, little bro. This was a most effective distraction."

"Was any of it true?" Gabriel said in a desolate whisper. Lucifer was shining so brightly it was hard to look at him.

"All of it," Lucifer assured him. "You know me. I don't lie. I never need to."

"So Michael really did do that to you..."

"He really did," Lucifer said, turning sorrowful once more. "And we will need to find out what happened to him. I will need your help, I hope you can forgive me enough to put this minor deception behind us." He smiled and then vanished in a flurry of feathers.

Gabriel stared at the empty space where his brother had stood. Tricking the Trickster? He supposed he deserved it. What a fucking mess.

"Gabriel," Sam called from the house. Gabriel's depression lifted slightly. Whatever had happened, he could face it as long as he had Sam. He looked over to where Sam and Bobby were leaving the house with Dean supported between the two of them. "Where is everyone?"

"Heaven. It's not a pretty story and we're exposed here now. This place isn't safe anymore. Let's get to San Francisco," Gabriel said. "I'll fill you in there."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So friends, we've reached the end of the road of Part 3. Follow me to Part 4, where Sam and Gabriel have to try and fix a Heaven out of control and finally do something about Lugh and Zurvan wreaking havoc wherever they go. Not to mention fixing Sam's brother Dean...


End file.
